The Repeat
by DevonWren
Summary: Merlin and Arthur AU. First, a trip to France reveals the prospect of a relationship, but just when everything seems to be settling out, Book 2 comes along and throws everything out of balance. Sorry for doing a rubbish summary. Just so you know, SLASH!
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

He'd sat down next to him approximately seventeen minutes and twenty eight seconds ago. But to Merlin, it felt like an age.

They'd exchanged pleasantries like they would with anyone else. Looked at each other with the curiosity they would show anyone else, but both felt the strangest urge to _keep looking_, even after their eyes had drawn themselves away.

"Merlin, could you pass me the Ammeter?" Arthur asked, gesturing to the clumpy black device to Merlin's left that looked as though it had been warped out of the 1960s. Merlin's ample ears burned red as he was acknowledged, but did as he was bid. "Thanks,"

_'Damn it! he's got the Voltmeter_', Merlin mentally cursed, glancing briefly over to an equally bulky-looking black thing in front of Arthur, who, upon seeing Merlin regarding it, handed it over.

"You're allowed to talk, y'know. I know my presence can be intimidating, what with me being possibly the most brilliant person on the planet," Arthur chuckled, mocking both himself and Merlin (Arthur didn't believe it for a second, in fact he could spend decades arguing the opposite), "but seriously, it's not like I'm a prince," he smiled warmly, his confidence seemed to be oozing into Merlin, because he felt better instantly.

"Sorry, I'm just no good with people," he lowered his head in a mixture of embarrassment and sheer relief, _Arthur wasn't the bully he'd half expected._

"Oh, join the club!" he laughed, to Merlin it sounded like bells, velvet and bells. Shocking but perfectly matched to his golden exterior. "So, where are you from?"

"Ealdor originally, but I'm staying with my great uncle. Mum reckoned this place," he pointed loosley at the walls and ceiling, "would straighten me out," he quoted his mother's words, remembering her curious emphasis on the latter part, before realising what he'd said. _Maybe Arthur wouldn't realise._ But something in Arthur's frozen expression told him he had.

Neither boy moved, but then Arthur resumed chewing his Biro, and smiled. Stunningly. "Nice. But that's pretty far away right?"

Merlin nodded, _One hundred and seventy nine miles_ to be precise.

―

Merlin reluctantly grabbed a tray, ready to be served lumpy mashed potato, inedible vegetarian sausages and a miniscule teaspoon of peas. He tried to convince himself the only reason he didn't want to eat was because he was watching his figure, but after looking down at himself, the nearly-visible-through-his-shirt ribs, collarbone that flashed shadows just above his t-shirt, and legs that couldn't hope to fill his trousers, it was clear that this would never be the case.

His eyes scanned the canteen, there must have been someone he could talk to. _Arthur_. Sure, that would be nice enough, but as if he had the guts. But the blond boy _was_ sat on his own, well, on his own with some other people. _No_. His eyes were fixed with Arthur's for just a second too long. His feet crossed and one knee collapsed under the other, sending him and his mashed potato flying onto the table in front. He cussed under his breath.

This was not the way to start a first day.

He jumped up onto his feet again, hopeful that no one had noticed. But the clatter was still ringing in his own ears, so someone else must have...

Yes, everyone heard.

"Banana skin," he announced, heat creeping up his neck and seeping up to the very tips of his ears. It was a lie. But who was to know. He looked over to Arthur, questioning himself as he did so, _why?_ And sure enough, the boy was looking back, a surprisingly soft smile playing in the corners of his lips, as if he had expected nothing less.

"Are you okay?" There was a girl. He'd only just realised she was trying to help, gathering together his tray and wiping up the spilt with several bottle green paper towels.

"Oh, no, it's fine, I've got it," he bent down, still feeling slightly ill with humiliation.

"No, I'm going to help. I know first days can be hard on people Merlin..."

"You know my name? How do you know my name?"

"Oh," she stammered_, nerves, how reassuring, _"well, I'm friends with the headmasters step daughter. I haven't been stalking _you_." She double-checked, "Not to say that I've been stalking anyone, or that I would ever stalk anyone. Oh, god, not saying that if I were to stalk anyone I wouldn't stalk you, because I'm sure you're a very nice person..."

Merlin was laughing, he just couldn't help himself. She was a nervous wreck! And she would definitely be the person he sat with this lunch.

"I'm Gwen, by the way,"

The two of them wandered over to the nearest empty table (aside from the one now strewn with lumpy mash), and set down the single tray of food Gwen had got for herself, but then offered to share with Merlin. Merlin had sworn she'd nearly decked the woman behind the canteen counter after she refused to give Merlin another plate, teeth gritted and a snarl just audible in her throat.

"I know it's a strange thing to ask, but, I'm trying to make conversation..." she started, face immediately turning pink, "not that you're a hard person to talk to, or that I don't want to, or that I find it difficult..."

"Gwen, get on with it," he prompted, smiling what, back in Ealdor, had become his signature boyish grin.

She nodded and smiled, "Tomorrow, what do you think about tomorrow?"

Merlin didn't understand, and shot her a look that said pretty much _that_, '_I don't understand_',

"You don't know? Or have you forgotten?"

Merlin shook his head, he wasn't sure yet,

"The school trip to France," she narrowed her eyes, willing him to remember.

"Oh yes," he did remember, thankfully, otherwise tomorrow could have been a little embarrassing.

"Second day back is a little early though don't you think?"

"No, most people here have been here since Year 7, and plus, it's a bit like extending the summer holidays. Although, it does make all of today's lessons seem a bit pointless. I mean, by the time we get back, we'll have forgotten all of it," she shrugged, putting a full forkful of mash in her mouth.

"Well, you see..." he lifted his backpack onto the table and pulled out three A4 notebooks, Gwen stopped eating for a moment, "This is why we take notes," he grinned. Just behind Gwen he saw that ever-more-familiar blond mop turn in his direction, his smile was wiped off his face.

"What are you looking at?" she peered over her shoulder to see Arthur, whose confused but fascinated eyes were locked with Merlin's, "Or should I say _who_ are you looking at?" she sniggered, "So you _are _gay then?"

Merlin's eyes snapped back to Gwen, _how could she possibly know?_

"I was sat behind you in Physics, and I don't miss a trick." she looked ridiculously proud of herself. "And just for the record, I don't blame you. Everyone can see how simply _perfect_ Arthur Pendragon is,"

"Arthur _Pendragon_?" he retorted,

"Yes, he's the Headmasters son,"

Merlin swallowed. He should watch how much he looks at him then.

"A word of advice, Merlin, don't try anything, you're lucky he spoke to you in Physics. Usually, he speaks to no one, unless he has specially selected them, and no one, unless specially selected speaks to him. Well, apart from Morgana. Well, apart from me and Morgana, but that's just the privilege that comes with being his step-sisters best friend."

Merlin hardly noticed the dark-haired girl sit down beside him, he was too confused (and tired) to concentrate on anything for too long. _Arthur had been fine talking to him earlier, in fact, Arthur had initiated the conversation. If Arthur was how Gwen said he was, then why would he have done that? _Specially selected. _Perhaps he was just being kind, as it was Merlin's first day, perhaps he wants a friend and thought that someone who knew nothing of the school, the people and the his usual reaction to people would prove the most acceptable candidate. Whatever it was, he felt that privilege Gwen had felt, to know that there were some people in this school who had probably never spoken to Arthur, but he had, and it had been Arthur's choice, on his _first day_, how could he not feel a sense of smothered euphoria. Especially because Arthur looked as though he may have been carved out of stone by a king's finest artist. Chiselled, and perfected so the light played with every plane of his face, every strand of his hair, the sparkling blue of his eyes, the slight wetness around his lips where he had just licked them..._ Shut up.

"Morgana," his head spun around to meet another set of blue eyes, only these belonged to a girl and had nowhere near the same affect. He shook her hand as he had Arthur's, as he had Gwen's. Finding tedium in the repetition. _So this was Arthur's step-sister, it had to be_. But there were few similarities between the two, her hair was cocoa brown, his was golden blond, her face was soft, whilst his was angular and defined. But both were impeccable, and he felt inadequate sat so near to both of them.

―

He'd been watching Merlin for the past half hour, interested in how quickly he'd managed to find himself with friends. Annoyed by how that time period differed to his own. But he couldn't help it. Looking. There was so much to see. And Merlin had made himself so apparent, so soon.

There had been no banana skin, everyone had seen that. And Arthur wondered if they'd forgiven him for the same reason that Arthur had, deciding not to back him up against the wall and pelt him with peas, whilst the dining room looked on in horror or thrill. _He was just so irresistibly endearing_. That black lock of hair that flopped across his forehead, and those piercing blue eyes, that had moments previous locked with Arthurs and threatened to tear away everything Arthur's father had taught him in mere seconds, and those huge, fantastic ears. He couldn't look away even if his eyes had been poked out with a fork. A fork on fire, even.

Lancelot nudged him, asking what he was looking at, and without moving his eyes he replied_, 'nothing_'. But lance was not as stupid as Arthur would have liked. He peered around Owain's head at the thin, lanky dark-haired boy, then back at Arthur, who appeared to have forgotten to breathe.

It was there, in all its glory. And Lancelot could see it. He pushed the thought aside_. He must not get involved. The very idea of Arthur fancying a boy was utterly ridiculous... but very real. _


	2. Chapter 2

_**Thank you so much for the reviews, I can't tell you how nice it is to know that people actually **_**like**_** what I'm doing. I'm inspired to carry on, now.**_

_**This is just setting the scene, as the first chapter was establishing characters.**_

Chapter Two

Merlin was early.

Gaius had dropped him off at eight, ready for the eight thirty set-off. It was freezing and every hair on his body was standing on end. He'd thought three layers enough, but a September morning such as this should be given a little more credit.

―

Uther pulled up at the coach station at exactly nine minutes past the hour. From the front seat, Arthur could see Merlin gradually turning blue. He hated it. An unreasonable hate that seemed to overwhelm his instinct for self-preservation as he jumped out of the car. His father protesting, "_Arthur it's too cold, wait..."_ but he'd already slammed the door and was heaving his stuff out of the boot. Uther sighed and drove off to find a parking space, not bothering to wave to his disobedient, arrogant son as he did so.

Arthur breathed in a huge gulp of fresh, blisteringly cold air, feeling it tear at the warmth in his lungs. Then walked over to where Merlin stood, clutching his Jack Wills hoodie in his left hand, his suitcase handle in his right.

"Morning," he said brightly, grabbing the thinner boys attention, who nodded in response, obviously too cold to waste heat on talking, "You look cold," he smiled, teeth chattering behind his already blueing lips, he held his fleece in an outstretched hand, offering it to the boy.

―

Usually, Merlin would have refused, pretending to be too tough for borrowing clothes. _But he really was cold_. He took the hoodie with a purple trembling hand, blue eyes never leaving Arthur's.

"Thanks," he whispered, voice having dried up completely. He threw it over his head as though he'd never known warmth of the like, the smell of Arthur still lingered, and the heat from inside his car. It was like being wrapped in a bundle of loveliness, awakening every one of his sixth senses. The last being the one that sensed when Arthur was around. Merlin found very little comfort in how obsessed he had _already_ become with Arthur, the way he would wonder about him whenever something remotely related came up. _For god's sake, he'd only met him yesterday_. But that didn't matter. Arthur still seemed to have pinned himself to the front of Merlin's mind, tormenting him whenever he closed his eyes.

They waited in silence, neither finding the courage to speak to the other, but when the coach pulled up, Merlin found something to say, as random and stupid as it sounded, "Do you think we'll have to share with the cripples?"he gestured towards a huddle of over-seventy-nine's who were also waiting at the bus-stop,

Arthur sniggered, finding that one not-particularly-funny comment utterly hilarious. Merlin just looked at him, shocked. _Arthur was laughing at him, he didn't know if it was a good thing or a bad thing._

"Merlin, can you actually imagine _that lot_ spending the night doing a _survival camping exercise_?" he was still laughing.

"_Survival Camping Exercise?!"_

"Yes," Arthur stopped laughing, suddenly very concerned, "That's what we're doing tonight,"

Merlin's whole body was filling with an irritating heat, he no longer needed that hoodie Arthur had given him. "Oh, Yeah... Right," his head became very heavy on his shoulders all of a sudden. He thought about what he had packed, or rather, what he hadn't packed. _No sleeping bag. Not more than one jacket. No Thermal underwear. No torch. No dressing gown (although, that wasn't a necessity).No Thick socks. Was there anything he _had_ packed._ Probably not.

"You haven't packed the right stuff have you?" Arthur deduced, raising a conspicuous eyebrow, giving him, what Merlin thought was, an intellectual appeal. But, now was not the time to be considering that.

"I didn't know! Why didn't any teachers check we had the right stuff, they should have run through it all with us yesterday," but Arthur was too busy holding his sides together, laughing, to answer. "Arthur, it's not funny, I'm going to freeze to death,"

"Don't be ridiculous," Arthur choked, catching his breath, "I won't let that happen," he was serious, but a sort of calm, gentle serious, as though he was determined to keep that promise, then, realising the emotion behind his words, he added, "No one would..."

Merlin eyed him suspiciously, and he hoped Arthur noticed. _Arthur had no right to be concerned_. Oh, who was he kidding? He was _rolling_ in adrenaline at the mere possibility that Arthur cared.

"Anyway, in answer to your previous question, you can't expect to be mollycoddled here. It's just not going to happen." he smirked, "I don't know how much cotton wool they wrapped you up in at your old school, but that doesn't happen here. It's every man for himself." Arthur was watching Merlin as though he was a child, a terribly cute child, who had yet to understand the prospect of life, "You have to look out for number one," and he prodded his own chest, drawing Merlin's curiosity to the fact that it had hardly moved when he touched it, as if there were layers and layers of perfectly toned muscle underneath... _No, he must learn to control himself._

―

Merlin walked over to coach after his name was called, happily saying 'hi' to the middle-aged man in the drivers seat. He didn't return Merlin's enthusiasm as Merlin would have liked. But it didn't phase him. He was now in an undoubtedly good mood.

He stood at the front, looking over the rows and rows of seats, and the mass of pupils clambering to get as close to the back as possible. He would save a seat for Gwen, as Morgana seemed to be sitting with a rather bewildered looking Mordred. He decided, after mere seconds of deliberation, that the front was the safest place to be.

He wasn't particularly looking forward to this coach journey, despite his indecently good mood. Gwen would want to talk. She always did (not that he knew her well enough to really say _always_), well, from what he understood.

He swung his backpack onto the seat, getting out his water and took the lid off to have a drink, when... _Some idiot charged past him, giggling and obviously not taking into account that there were other people on the bus_. She didn't even turn around to acknowledge the fact that Merlin now looked like he'd wet himself. Nimueh. He recognised her from when Gwen had pointed her out in the canteen, associating her with the words, _'arrogant, ignorant and evil_'_._ _That was it, good mood over_. He was seething, _'how dare she...?!'_

Curled up in the seat nearest the window, he tried to cover up his wet trousers, even clutching his bag in front of him to disguise it as best he could. After less than a minute of wallowing in self-pity and trying desperately not to cry, a weight caused the seat beside him to depress, strange, she hadn't even said...

"Arthur?!" he was shocked, as he always seemed to be whenever Arthur was near,

"Merlin." he looked shiftily to the left and then sat down.

"I was..." he paused, half wanting to tell Arthur that the seat was saved, half not,

"You were what?"

"..."

Arthur sighed, "I'd sit somewhere else, but there's only a seat next to Cedric left and no offence, but I..." he pointed to the tall skinny boy sat a few seats behind them, then sighed again, taking in Merlin's awkward expression, "_Fine_, I'll move, Cedric can't be_ that_ bad..." and he reluctantly began picking up his rucksack, and tugging it over his shoulder,

"No, stay here, it's okay, it's just, Gwen, she'll have to..." he stammered. Utterly flabbergasted by the fact that _Arthur_, the one who supposedly only made friends with a select few, had chosen to sit next to _him_. Perhaps Gwen had got it wrong, maybe she'd just misinterpreted him. It was the only explanation.

"Well, if you're fine with it," he grinned, taking an immeasurable amount of pleasure in seeing Merlin perplexed.

"I guess so," he turned back to face his window, realising that his wet jeans had been exposed,

Arthur, who had seen the situation unfold, hastily said, "Don't worry about Nimueh, she's just jealous because she doesn't look... Didn't settle in as quickly as you did." he shifted uncomfortably, "you had friends immediately, Gwen and my step-sister, she, on the other had, took at least five months, and that was when everyone was new, so everyone was alone. Everyone can make friends when everyone is a loner." He was being overly matter-of-fact.

Expressing Nimueh's loneliness didn't make Merlin feel better, only worse. He felt sorry for her, despite the way that crowds would disperse when she walked past, and avoid eye contact even if it meant covering their eyes with a sandwich and looking a complete plank, as Merlin had seen Lancelot do yesterday. _There was a point, why wasn't Arthur sat with Lancelot_. "Why aren't you sat with Lancelot?"

"See, knew it. You _do_ want me to move..."

"No!" he said that a bit to loud, "I was just interested, I mean, I saw you sitting with him at lunch," _great, so now Arthur knows he's a stalker_.

"Oh." he frowned, "Right. Um. Well. He's a friend, but he's got better friends. If you, um... get what I mean."

Merlin nodded, not wanting to push Arthur for a more coherent answer.

Gwen stepped up onto the bus, looking flushed. Most of the students on the left side of the coach had been laughing and pointing at something out of the window. Gwen must have been running.

He mouthed 'sorry' at her. But as she walked past, eyes widening at Arthur, she winked at him. Which made Merlin blush. She simply moved to the seat beside Cedric and sat down, a triumphant smile on her face.

"So what are you going to do?" Arthur asked, that same vision of concern plastered on his face,

Merlin didn't understand, "About what?"

"Your sleeping bag?" Arthur blushed,

―

_'Goddamn It, Arthur! Of all the things you could have said, it had to be the _sleeping bag_, why not socks?! Why not thermal underwear?!_ No, that would have been worse...'

"Oh, I don't know, I was just going to hope for the best," he shrugged, Arthur couldn't understand how Merlin seemed to care so little about his own welfare, did he not value his own existence?

"Well, that won't do!" he half-laughed, furrowing his eyebrows in a way that almost said _don't-be-ridiculous-I'm-not-going-to-let-someone-as-perfect-as-you-die-because-he-forgot-to-read-the-letter_, or at least, that's what Arthur was thinking as he said it. "I'll find you some spares, my father is running this trip. I'll check with him later, he'd not stupid, he knows what teenagers are like, he must have brought _some_ spares." Merlin didn't understand why Arthur said the word 'teenagers' as if he didn't consider himself one of them.

"What if he hasn't?" Merlin's eyes were irresistibly wide, taking puppy dog to its logical conclusion, but coincidentally making Arthur's insides melt. He couldn't help it, his heart was fluttering, and for a moment he thought he wouldn't be able to answer, but the part of his father in him got the better,

"I'll see what I can do,"

―

Arthur's voice had been beautifully low, and perhaps unintentionally seductive. Merlin's chest preparing for self-implosion as he heard it. The way Merlin saw it, the trip was beginning to become merely a subplot...


	3. Chapter 3

_**Again, thank you so much for the reviews. I was so excited! **_

_**Just to warn everyone, this chapter is uneventful but intrinsic to the rest of the story, so please don't get angry at me. I want everyone to try and guess what Arthur isn't telling Merlin (It isn't the obvious).**_

_**And, after Wednesday this week, I probably won't be uploading for a few weeks (I might be able to) because I'm going back to my mum's and she doesn't have wireless. I'll try to get in as many chapters as I can up until then though.**_

Chapter Three

They switched to the ferry after about an hour on the bus. Arthur had spent most of that time reeling off hundreds of anecdotes about his childhood, Morgana, and the stubbornness of his father. The majority of these simply fled to the back of Merlin's mind, he could remember each one as if he'd been there at the time, nigh on word perfect to what Arthur had said, so he could pretend to relive them whenever he wanted, Merlin had always been like that, always found it easy to remember.

But one. And only one, played with his imagination more than the others.

_"I remember one time," Arthur's tone had gone serious again, a morbid contrast to the light-hearted ice-cream, pillow-fight orientated story that preceded it. "My father was doing that thing, y'know, when he decides he's going to be all manly and authoritative, but really, it just comes across as overbearing and controlling," he'd looked over at Merlin, and for the first time, Merlin had seen a definite pain in his eyes, as if his father was the one thing that caused him the most suffering. He got the impression that his father was always like this, always as arrogant, always as... Frustrating. Merlin didn't know Uther Pendragon, but from what he'd heard, he already could picture himself killing the wretched egotistical man. _

_Merlin nodded, and Arthur continued, "It was a basic situation, but it was the one that got to me most, maybe it only sticks in my mind because it was the one night I refused to obey his _orders_."_

_The raven-haired boy had felt sick, Arthur had called his father's guidance '_orders'_, that was the relationship of king and commoner, not father and son, "he wouldn't let me go out, said it was too late, said he didn't want me out in the cold, and I quote," he made speech marks in the air with four fingers, "_'I need to know where you are, do you realise how much my family name would be damaged if anyone found out that...'_, well, that bit doesn't matter. But the fact that it was only his name, and not his son that was stopping him..." he though Arthur had been about to cry, his face so scrunched up with the reminiscent pain. That blatant agony was radiating into Merlin, a cold heat that made his stomach crawl. He hated how much Arthur felt about this, that he should ever have to feel this way about something his father has done. A father is there to support his children, to devote his life to them, not the other way around. He realised there must have been more to it than this than the basic plotline. _

_"So, I went to my room, as he asked, and..." he turned to Merlin, a smile creeping onto his face, but Merlin was too lost, too engrossed in what he had been saying to return it. Arthur's tone had become a lot more affectionate. _This part pleased him_, "I emptied my wardrobe, tied all my trousers together, long-sleeved tops and eventually t-shirts," he laughed, "I even stole the pot of safety pins from my father's office, he didn't notice until the next morning, and by then it was too late." he sighed, lifting his head so he could only see the bus ceiling, obviously not realising how very un-rebellious stealing a pot of safety pins was, "then I climbed out of the window, and went..." he stopped, his head snapping back to the position it had been in, tilted sublimely in Merlin's direction, as if the whole conversation had been about him. _

_"I should have known the rope of clothes that was dangling in front of the kitchen window would have given me away, but you know what it's like, I was just so excited that it had worked. For the evening, anyway. Father sent out a search party, telling them to disguise the truth at all costs. I got grounded until my fifteenth birthday and he swore that if he ever caught me..."he trailed off,_

_He kept stopping, as if he was teasing Merlin with the details. He was keeping something from him, and Merlin needed to know what. But Arthur had looked away. The conversation was closed. _

_"If he caught you what?" he had asked, but Arthur hadn't replied, just looked at his knees. As if that part of the tale filled him with nothing but shame. Did he agree with his father on that part?_

―

That was another thing, now Merlin thought about it. He always called his father '_father_'. That was too formal, like the poem that begins '_Mother any distance greater than a single span_...' by Simon Armitage. Was he trying to distance himself from his father, mentally as well as physically?


	4. Chapter 4

_**This is sort of the beginning of the story, the turning point, as it were. Enjoy!**_

_**Oh, and thank you for the reviews!**_

Chapter Four

Getting to the survival camp proved to be as big-a-survival-test as what the actual survival camp prospected to be for Merlin. Everywhere he stepped another root wound its way over his shoe, pulling him onto the sodden ground once more. He had to admit though, this was what all deciduous forests should look like in the rain, vibrant green and soft, _everything looked so soft..._

Thwack! But that wasn't the sound of him hitting the floor again, or a nearby tree. It was the sound of his chest hitting an arm, a thick, muscular arm, as another quite similar draped itself around his waist, holding him upright.

"Take care of yourself Merlin, I don't want to have to carry you to the camp on a stretcher," he said, sounding a little annoyed at Merlin's clumsiness, but then, Merlin couldn't see the half-smile that curled Arthur's lip on the opposite side.

Merlin was trembling even more than he would have been had Arthur let him hit the ground... Or tree... Or whatever. _Arthur had touched his waist_! That was more than Merlin's tiny little mind could handle. _Arthur had touched his waist!_ The repetitions in his head were getting louder, he couldn't believe it, the tingling warmth percolating through his jacket and t-shirt and onto his bare skin, until he had the perfect image of Arthur's arm, on fire, around his waist. He couldn't impede that boyish grin from splitting his soaked face for the life of him.

―

The camp or, at least, the site on which the camp would soon be, came into sight. It was nothing more than a small clearing, _fortunately to Merlin's right, shadowed by the trees, were three Portaloo. So there was that problem covered_. The ground was a bright green with grass, thick, wet, grass, that would, no doubt, soak into the tents and then onto Merlin's back as he slept. He shivered at the thought.

_But then... he didn't have a tent!_

"What is it now?" Arthur said, his tone suggesting Merlin was quickly becoming the bane of his life, after seeing the look of horror on his face,

"I just realised... _I haven't got a tent!"_

Arthur doubled-over he was laughing so much, holding onto a tree to keep his balance. He was choking out breathless words, whilst Merlin stood, rooted to the spot, wondering how the hell he was going to hold off death until the morning. "_I can't believe you're so stupid!"_ Arthur roared, "You honestly thought you'd be able to go camping _without_ a tent?!"

He leant in, until his face was mere millimetres from Arthurs, "_I have already told you, I didn't know we were camping!"_

"Fatal mistake, my friend," Arthur closed the gap further and wagged his finger in Merlin's face, holding his breath, so Merlin couldn't hear it tremble, before stepping backwards and collapsing into another fit of hysteria.

"Arthur!" Merlin cried, he was stood there contemplating the fact that this may be the last night of his life, and Arthur was _laughing_? He was disgusted, "Oh for god's sake," he bit, and stormed off in the direction of the clearing.

"Oh, come one, _Mer_lin. See the funny side, already." he leapt after his friend, "Look, you're just..." he stopped, throwing fists down by his sides, "Merlin!" he screamed, forcing the other, now terrified by the demanding tone of voice, boy to spin on the spot to face him, "Now, listen to me," he breathed, bringing his finger up to Merlin's face again, breathing warm breath onto Merlin's cheeks, giving him the strangest pickling sensation, "you're just lucky I packed one of those big, proper, camping tents, or else you'd be stuffed," and with that, he smirked playfully and walked off.

Merlin was left not knowing what to do. Was that Arthur saying he could share? The thought, and then conformation as Arthur beckoned him to follow, was 'quite exquisite' (In Merlin's own words).

―

"So, Ever put up a tent before?"

"Look, Arthur." he started, holding the tent bag upside-down in front of him with two fingers, expressing ignorance and disgust as the poles and plastic sheets tumbled out, "the only time I have come anywhere close to putting up a tent and camping, was building a den out of bed sheets, scarves and chairs in the kitchen when I was about seven." he sighed, "It's just not going to happen," he widened his eyes at the pile of crumpled tarpaulin, hands now on hips. In Arthur's opinion, _being irresistibly stubborn_.

"Well, if you ask me, the den in the kitchen puts you in good stead,"

"Really?" he was genuinely confused, and he genuinely believed him,

"No, you're a dead man walking," and then the blond fell about in hysterics again.

Merlin sighed. Not because he was fed up or annoyed. But because he couldn't quite place himself, or his feelings. Seeing Arthur rolling around on the floor, exuding joy, made him feel happy himself, all warm and fuzzy inside, _he was the reason for it_. Even if it was at his expense.

He had admitted to himself now, after only two days that he felt too much for Arthur to settle around him. He would constantly be on edge until he knew where he stood.

Arthur's hair was shimmering in the sunlight again, casting yellow beams that would catch a moles attention (not the most romantic comparison, I know). And Merlin had to hold in his shriek of happiness.

He watched Arthur struggle for about ten minutes, trying to put a pole in one end and then pull it out the other end, which, coincidentally, was over an arm span away. Trying to stifle his laughter as Arthur tripped and rolled through where the door should be and then spent five minutes fumbling around trying to get out again. In the end, his sense of humour wasn't enough to prevent him from helping the hostage escape. He hooked the door open and peered in.

"Aaagh!" how undignified...

Arthur had dived out of the hole, grabbing the unsuspecting Merlin by the shoulders and pushing him onto the ground, pinning him there. Merlin fought against him for a moment, but soon the thrashing and cussing stopped, realising that it was having no affect on the crying-with-hysterical-laughter Arthur.

They laid there for no more than two minutes, Arthur crushing the smaller, thinner boy into the wet earth, before he rolled off, deciding to strike a bargain.

Also, even thought he knew he wouldn't be murdered for admitting it, he couldn't bear to be that close to the boy, not when he only wanted to be closer. It was torturous. After feeling Merlin's heart beat in rhythm with own, it only made him want him more.

"Okay..." he coughed, "you're going to help me,"

Merlin nodded, peeling himself off the turf, "Arthur," he offered, "you've been acting differently, happier, more relaxed," he stood up, brushing himself down, before hastily adding, "trust me I'm glad. But not your usual self, I suppose. What is it?"

"What? _Differently to what_?" Arthur stormed back to where Merlin was stood, his happiness flipping, a catastrophic mood-swing that had put their hearts out of sync. His finger raised once more, and his voice exceedingly loud, "_you don't know what I'm usually like_, in fact, _Mer_lin, you don't know me at all!" he yelled and then ran between the trees, disappearing from sight.

"Arthur?!" he screamed, his voice an octave higher than was natural.

He wanted to scream, seeing the last flicker of blond disappear, longing to follow to find and to repair. He kicked the tent, bile bubbling up his throat, and rage burning in the back of his chest. He felt as though he was going to be sucked into a black hole of depression, swallowed up in the darkness until he would surely self-combust.

Ill.

But then he had an idea, it hit him like a full-on tidal wave, but the effects were not as destructive, but what he hoped would turn out to be _con_structive. So he set to work.

He'd wanted to run after Arthur, cup his head in his hands and hold him, until the anger passed. Until he had the control to speak. Until he was himself again. But he knew he couldn't do that. Uther would have eyes everywhere, and he doubted the gesture would be well received by Arthur.

Arthur was just a boy. But that _was_ the problem.

The first tear threatened to fall from his eyes when he remembered something someone had told him, something that he now thought was vitally important,

_No man is worth your tears_.

_**Check the reference! /\**_

_**Don't expect this argument to last; it's more because it provided a perfect reason for Arthur to **_**realise.**


	5. Chapter 5

_**I'd like to apologise for dragging this out a bit, although it gets a bit **_easier_** from here onwards. But I'm afraid to say we will be seeing more of Arthur temper... but it is for a better cause. I think Arthur lost his temper because it was a touchy subject because we all know how Arthur is beginning to feel about Merlin, he just wanted to deny it. It's all very complicated, I'll try not to let it happen again.**_

_**And by the way, I'm uploading really often, like; this is my third today, it's because I've got loads of chapter's that I've already written, but after Wednesday I'm going back to my mum's so it'll probably be every week or something really annoying like that. (She doesn't have wireless).**_

Chapter Five

Arthur was still running, he didn't know how far he was running, or how far he would eventually run. Always in the same direction, so he could guarantee that, turning around, he could see that face again. Even the distraught, confused, upset one would suit him fine, despite that crippling knife of pain that seared through him as he'd seen it. He definitely wanted to see it again. That smile. He would _die_ to see that smile one last time.

But the worst bit was, he didn't know who he was running from. Despite his own outburst, Arthur was quite sure it wasn't Merlin. And with every step, the answer was becoming clearer, as if the icy brittle air was clearing his thoughts, sifting out the truth. He slowed down as realisation took over, shaking his weakened muscles violently. But that might have been the cold. He was running from the one thing he would never escape. _Himself_. Merlin was just the stupid boy who managed to bring that to the surface, the one that made it so conclusive. It was Merlin's fault, in a way, he'd been a catalyst, commented on his ever-improving mood, (and truthfully, he hadn't felt the same devastating, exhilarating rush that he got whenever he saw Merlin, since, well, since... _But, as he said before, that didn't matter_). If only the ignorant boy hadn't pointed that out, if he'd just let it carry on. Who knows..?

_Shut up. It's not Merlin's fault, don't you dare shift the blame. Don't you dare blame _Merlin.

He found a rock, big enough to act as a seat, and sat. Cried, and sat. For a good half hour. Letting everything just pour out. Part of him hoping that it would wash out his insides, leaving only what _should_ be there. What his father thought _should_ be there. But when he finished, when the sobs had subsided into nothing more than irregular intakes of breath, he knew. He_ had_ been cleaned out, and it_ had_ left only what _should_ have been there. Only what should have been there, was not what he had wanted or hoped it would be. But it was there none the less. Crystal-clear and explicit. He was gay, and there was nothing he could do about it.

―

He was back at the camp for six. In other words - dinner time.

Arthur wasn't stupid enough to miss that. His stomach was far too demanding.

He sat and ate in silence, reeling from what he had put Merlin through, unable to even look in the boy's direction. The dark-haired boys face played on replay in his mind, the confusion, the outrage, and then the pain. That pain that he hadn't wanted to see there. It was warming, like some sort of liquid blanket, to see how vulnerable and sensitive Merlin could be, and Arthur only hated himself more the more it covered him.

This was survival camp night, expectedly nothing that would risk his father's money in insurance. They had to make their own food, with the risk of going hungry, they would have to sleep in tents, at the risk of getting cold and having a restless night. But those meek tasks were nothing compared to the battle he had induced within his chest, morality, curiosity, his father, and a tiny red plant of devotion that was growing with the speed of time-lapse photography, were all fighting one another. To the death. He was seriously considering that it was him that should be worried about, when it comes to actually _surviving_, not Merlin.

_But that face...?_

His head was hanging low, as it had all through Uther's speech, as it had been all through dinner and dessert. He didn't want to speak to anyone except Merlin, to look at anyone expect Merlin, but even _that, the slightest glance,_ he could only do when it was just the two of them. He had an apology to make. And his father would kill him if he was found to be admitting he was wrong. Self-belief and arrogance, his father's bona fide, and most famous traits.

He looked up to where there should have been a pile of poles and green plastic and rubbish, all torn and tangled and useless, from Merlin's typical inability to construct, his clumsiness controlling his fumbling hands and tripping his jelly-like legs. The thought caused his lips to tinker on the verge of a smile, a wide, joyous smile, at that. But his father's scolding face in his mind pulled it back. Set him back onto the straight road. But none of that debris was there, at least, not how he expected it to be. And stood in front of the giant tent, was a rather solemn-looking Merlin.

"I'm sorry," Merlin stated, his voice thick, making his way slowly towards Arthur. Eyes not quite finding Arthur, dripping with sugar-sweet apology.

_'Merlin was apologising?! But he's done nothing wrong!_' he wanted to cry, out of self-disgust, he'd made Merlin blame himself! This was everyone's fault before it was Merlins. Arthur understood that.

"I should watch my mouth..." he continued, but Arthur was dying more with every word,

"No," he shook his head, smiling from ear to ear at Merlin's vulnerability, at his unending kindness, he couldn't help it. He saw Merlin for who he was, ever selfless, and it only made him fall further. "No, this isn't your fault." He met his friend half way between the tent and where Arthur had been stood, "I was being too sensitive, big-headed, and down-right supercilious. I just need some time to get over myself, _before I turn into my father,_" he chuckled and lead Merlin through the door. His heart leaping into his mouth and thumping as if it only had seconds to beat. 'Merlin'. He was internally singing and dancing and doing hideous guitar-solos and crying and punching the air. And sleeping. He didn't understand that image, but could feel the contentment his sleeping frame exuded.

That was all he needed to make him feel better. _A boy he barely knew._

―

It was one of those tents with more than one bedroom (a privilege of the headmaster's son), much to the boy's both delight and annoyance. And come midnight, when they had both retreated to their separate rooms, the cold began to eat into their skin. Running breezy fingers across their faces and sewing ice-blue lips together. Tearing down throats and seizing impressionable lungs.

Merlin lay there, huddling as far down into his borrowed sleeping bag as he could. His teeth chattering so loud they could be mistaken for frozen raindrops on the plastic roof. He shivered, and sniffed, wanting nothing more than for Arthur to come and keep him warm. Imagining strong arms around his back and waist, holding any heat between them, trapping their chances of a night with sleep.

―

Arthur lay there, in the room next door to Merlin, arms above his head. Paying no attention to the fact that he was blue all over. He was listening. To he chattering, to the sniffing, to the occasional ruffling as Merlin shivered. And he wanted nothing more than to creep next door, and keep him warm. Imagining his arms around the skinny boy's back and waist, holding any heat between them, trapping their chances of a night with sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Okay, so this chapter is sort of where we see the most development in the relationship and you'll see once you read the indecently cheesy, a little bit annoying bit at the end. But please don't let that put you off. **_

_**I was thinking, once I've finished this one, I might do another, with the same story, but so it all pans out differently, like, change the characters personalities and POV's, or something. Please tell me if I'm being stupid and should just move on to something completely different.**_

_**Oh, and PLEASE review, they make my day!**_

Chapter Six

The two boys sat in silence on the coach, as they drove ever-closer to the town of Pierrefonds. Arthur was still racked with guilt that he'd been too selfish and wrapped up in himself to help Merlin put the tent up, even though he _had_ volunteered to put it down by himself. Not that Merlin had let him. And Merlin was only too happy not to talk; scared he might blow it, or jinx it, or something ridiculous like that.

They got off the coach in the same silence, but not for the same reasons.

The view was breath-taking, even Arthur didn't mind admitting that. A cobbled road lead from where the coach had stopped, lined with houses, none of which matched. Like some higgledy-piggledy fairytale. Wall-climbing plants did exactly that, framing the uneven black-paned windows, and too-short doors which would no doubt lead into an interior just as enchanting. One grocery shop caught Merlin's attention for a split second longer than the other buildings, for it's old-English feel. Boxes of strawberries, apples, pears, and grapes, were piled up outside the wide windows, some French people were handpicking the ones they wanted. It was idyllic, completely idyllic. The sort of place that you would only have to look at on a postcard to feel utterly calm.

But the most beautiful part was not in Merlin's immediate eye-line, he had to look further, but the sheer scale of it made it seem that little bit closer. _A castle_. The most magnificent castle, with towering grey turrets with silver slate roofs, and windows, that even from where Merlin stood, he could see the lead cross-hatching pattern. It was like some medieval palace. Only the top of the castle was visible over the trees, but that only made it seem that bit more perfect, they seemed to be acting as a frame, highlighting the fact that _this_ was the main-attraction. _This,_ Chateau de Pierrefonds, was what everyone could, _naturally, _not help but want to see.

But the castle was not enough to captivate for so long, not when someone like Arthur creeped into your peripheral vision, not when Arthur crept into_ Merlin_'s peripheral vision.His attention was turned no quicker than it had been lost by the castle. And it seemed that Arthur's attention was residing much the same as Merlin's.

Their eyes were locked for mere seconds before Uther's voice boomed over the crowds, as if he was addressing _them_ in particular. "Right, I understand that your minds may be elsewhere," their heads twitched around, glaring at Uther as if he'd just condemned them to an eternity of loneliness, "The castle is quite breath-taking,"

Both boys relaxed, smiling, unintentionally at each other.

"But I require your eyes and ears for only a second,"

Arthur nudged Merlin, "You'd think there'd be enough of your ears for him _to share_, wouldn't you?" he teased.

Merlin's heart swelled, and his face flamed with embarrassment. He did the usual, and tried to smooth his ears to the side of his face, but they only pinged back up again, which made Arthur laugh more. Merlin was left confused though, whilst, unbeknown to him, Arthur was laughing and watching with the greatest amount of adoration, he didn't know whether or not to be offended, or remarkably exultant at the fact that Arthur only found his ears amusing, _as opposed to repulsive_. Which he always worried about.

―

The walking had given Merlin those shooting pains up his legs, unpleasant, but bearable. He didn't quite understand why they couldn't haven't driven to the centre. Then soon put it down to Uther trying to cause them as much discomfort as humanly possible, without parents trying to sue or claim on the insurance. He dreaded what the youth centre would be like.

They approached it down a wooded path. Merlin was constantly fighting off the barricade of flicking branches that Arthur was sending flying into his face on purpose. But Merlin couldn't find it in him to be angry. In fact, he found it quite funny. Until, that is, one pinged into his left eye, making him squeal, in a way that Arthur would describe as 'sounding like a pig on speed'.

"Right," Uther clapped his hands together, stepping up onto a wall, establishing the fact that he was, and always will be, twice as big as his students, "Dormitories are to be organised amongst yourselves, I do not have the energy to sort them out myself, so you'll have to scrabble." he sighed, "Now, if you're all quite capable, I'd like you to fill in this sheet," He gestured to the wall below him, "appropriately, then find your way around with this map," and he held a sheet of photocopied paper above his head. Merlin looked at the Youth Centre, finding it inconceivable that he would need a map to find his way around the small dismal concrete building. "Oh, and _no_ mixed dorms!" Uther announced, the sternness of his voice bordering on hostility.

"If you like, I'll go and put our names down," Arthur smiled and tottered off to the wall his father was still stood on. And Merlin watched in awe. _Arthur actually _wanted _to be in a dorm with him, over Lancelot_. Merlin couldn't help but notice the glance that Arthur and his father exchanged after their names had been written down. Uther looked shocked, disgusted and a little anxious. Merlin didn't bother hiding his offense.

Arthur knew what Merlin was frowning about, "don't worry, he's just... He's just..." but Arthur sighed heavily, feeling unable to confide in the brunette, and began walking towards the front door, leaving Merlin feeling upset and angry. Mainly at himself for being so repulsive. _He knew his ears would always let him down_.

―

They unpacked exchanging little words, never looking each other in the eyes, never touching each other, Merlin going out of his way to walk around the inside of the walls to prevent himself from coming into contact with Arthur as he moved from his rucksack to his closet. _A closet, how apt_.

Every now and then, Merlin felt the familiar eyes in the back of his head, and occasionally, the burning sensation would slip down to his back... But he couldn't tell if that was just his longing getting the better of him. The sickness he felt in the pit of his stomach tingled like excitement, but he knew it was something more. He just couldn't _think_ the words. He felt every move his body made, conscious that his clumsiness would destroy the already flailing relationship, conscious that he might have been shifting uneasily. He really didn't want Arthur to feel as uncomfortable as _he_ did.

―

Arthur's back was to Merlin, his eyes closed, holding a jumper up in front of him, ready to be put on a hanger. But he was miles away, unaware of what he was doing. It was as if his mind was trying to find the boy behind him, to _see_ him. But the saying '_eyes in the back of my head_' only let him down. He felt a deep, thick, persistent sense of guilt about his father. Merlin had seen, and Arthur only wished he could erase that memory, that scolding expression from Merlin's mind. _Everything had been going fine, the silence they kept finding themselves in was only because they were comfortable in each other's presence... Right?_ Arthur pinned his eyes open and refused to breathe to hold back the impending tears. He couldn't force out one of those ice-breaker laughs, no matter how ridiculous he knew he looked. He would usually have laughed, but he couldn't summon the happiness.

But it was Merlin who broke the ice, (or at least tried to)

"Arthur," he spun around, "are you okay?" Merlin's voice was trembling with sadness, confusion and anxiety, he honestly didn't know what to do.

Arthur's eyes had snapped into focus at the sound of that low, flowing voice, only to be presented with the fact that there was a mirror on the wall directly to his left. Merlin had seen everything. "Yes," he laughed, _there was that laugh, the one he needed._ "Never better,"

"Liar," Merlin chuckled, overwhelmed by how glad he was that they could talk again, no longer smothered by awkwardness,

"No, seriously, I'm fine," Arthur lied again,

"God. I can tell you're not, but. I won't force you to say anything you don't want to," Merlin smiled kindly and turned back to his wardrobe. Arthur was speechless, not laughing or even breathing. Gobsmacked by how inadvertently _nice _ Merlin was being, telling him he _wasn't_ going to force it out of him. _Was Merlin always this adorable, this endearing_? And so unintentionally.

"No, I'm sorry..." _oh, dear, now he'd dug himself a hole, _"My father, he's just... scared."

Merlin frowned, he didn't understand.

Arthur sat on his chosen bed and stared at the floor, "There's something I think I should tell you," he suddenly tilted his neck to look Merlin full on in the face, and Merlin could feel the trust he was bestowing in the intensity of his gaze, "you probably don't remember the story I told you on the bus, it was just one amongst many. Y'know, the one with the rope of clothes,"

Merlin's stomach churned as he remembered how Arthur had described his father, "I remember,"

Those two words sent shockwaves through Arthur's system, genuinely surprised and pleased that Merlin had had the courtesy to listen, let alone remember. "Well, I missed some stuff out, didn't I?" he sniggered, made weak by the drowning adrenaline, "the original row was about a friend of mine, a friend who was a boy, if you catch my drift," once again, they met each other's eyes, Arthur increasingly realising that this was the right decision, and Merlin's mind was choking on the knowledge, unable to differentiate between joy and fright. "I wanted to see him, father wouldn't let me, so as I told you, I snuck out,"

"To see him," Merlin deduced, and to break the silence that was creeping back into existence, he would prefer these painful memories to _that_.

Arthur nodded, "I ran into the forest, and well," he hung his head, "met him, I suppose. I was only fourteen, my father reckoned I didn't really know what I was doing, but,"

Now both boys were terrified, both knowing exactly what Arthur was about to say,

"That part of me, the... _Gay_... Part, my father was never really able to hammer it out of me,"

"Arthur," Merlin offered, "I can't believe that you thought it was hard to tell me, I wasn't going to think any differently of you," although, truthfully, Merlin now thought _very_ differently. Details into which I will not go. "You could have told me, in fact, you didn't even have to tell me, and then, when I saw you with a guy..." Merlin considered the pain, before continuing, holding the fear from him voice, "it would have been fine."

Arthur chuckled, before standing back up and leaving the room. Merlin knew it wasn't because of anything he'd said, Arthur had been smiling. He just needed a breath of fresh air, after all, _he had just come out of the closet._

_'Shame really, I always wanted to say it first,_'


	7. Chapter 7

_**I promise, the story progresses after this chapter, but this is quite important anyway,**_

_**Thank you again, I'm repeating myself (quite apt, considering the title), but I really do mean it.**_

Chapter Seven

"Father?" Arthur peered around his father's dormitory door, feeling queasy even as he did so.

"Arthur." Uther wasn't happy to see his son, he always made that perfectly clear, ashamed of how he never followed his orders, at how he always chose the opposite of what Uther wanted him to. Even though he knew it wasn't to spite him, it made him feel uneasy in his presence. "Can I help?"

Arthur knew his father was only using common courtesy, he didn't honestly want to help his son, "Um, not so much help, but just listen. I want to clear some things up,"

His father nodded to the seat beside his bed and Arthur sat, like a servant waiting to speak with a king,

"When I was fourteen..."

"I don't want to speak of this," he cut him off almost instantly, uncontrollable anger filling his thoughts, losing him the capability to think reasonably, "you were fourteen! You knew nothing of what it means to feel something like that, but I am to believe you have _changed_?" it wasn't much of a question, but it certainly was firing Arthur up.

"Father! I know I was only fourteen," he jumped out of his seat, his voice raised above his father's low dulcet tones, "but my age is unimportant. I was _in love_!"

"You were rebelling!"

"No." he paused, closing his eyes and swallowing fresh tears, "I did what I wanted, because, at the time, it _felt right_, it always has, I don't regret it, and I'd do it seventeen times over." he thought of Merlin for a second, and a second too long,

"Is this about the boy?" his father spun around, spitting as he spoke, face reddened with unreleased fury,

"What _boy_?"

"The dark-haired, pale, skinny one who you're sharing a dorm with,"

"Merlin, his name is _Merlin_!" he shrieked, "Don't you _dare_ refer to him as nothing more than an appearance, because, _dad,_ he is so much more! And you wouldn't acknowledge it if the whole world wrote you a letter each and thrust them under you nose!" his heart was beating so fast it was simply a hum, a loudening hum that was filling his ears with blood, filling his eyes with swirling fire, he couldn't see anything, nor hear anything that put Merlin in the wrong.

"And don't _you_ dare speak to your father in that way?!"

"Don't you get it father?!" Arthur breathed in deeply, trying to steady his temper, he was numb and blind, he needed to regain the ability to think straight, "_you're my _dad_, you're supposed to support me, to help me, to agree with me. _Not treat me as though I was never your son just because of who I love!"

"So you love him now, do you?"

"Merlin, I love _Merlin,"_ he sighed, his pleasure in how it sounded fought helplessly against his strong antagonism, "and that is never going to change,"

"We'll see, this is just a phase, Arthur, a petty phase. Soon enough you will grow out of it and realise the errors of you ways," he folded his arms and looked down upon his only son with disappointment, but Arthur no longer cared,

"Father, this phase has lasted three years, it is not suddenly going to change because you want it to. Not everything revolves around _you_!" he slammed a fist against the bed post, frustrated (although that _is_ an understatement) at his father's obstinacy. "and if you weren't so tenacious, you'd see that _he makes me happy_, he doesn't even know it yet, but this is more than a brief rendezvous in the forest when I was fourteen, this is something I don't want _ever_ to go away. Father, he makes me smile whenever I think about him, he is endlessly kind, endlessly selfless, and endlessly perfect. It is impossible not to love him, and I wish other people would see that,"

His father stared at him, sheer disgust distorting his harsh features,

"Nothing is real without him."

And with that, Arthur spun on his heels, calmly opening the door and leaving. His thoughts were clearer in his head. he hoped they were in his father's as well.

But Arthur didn't hear his father's last cutting remark, his desperation turning to hatred towards his heir. His skin thickening and his head bubbling with ire. He hated his son. He hated what his son had become. And he hated himself because of it.

"I hope he breaks your heart, my son."

―

Arthur's heart was beating outside his chest, he could hear it as if it were not his own. Perhaps his mind was trying to distance himself from what he was beginning to realise he had just done.

He had just fervently kissed goodbye to his last chance of a relationship with his father. Any kind of relationship, he doubted he would get a chance to speak with his father again. Cursed and bloody, the realisation took over, demanding his throat to open and his eyes to fill. Fill so full that the blue couldn't hold it any longer, until the tears poured out staining innocent cheeks with guilt and regret. _He should have kept quiet_. There were so many other ways he could have gone about this. One of which, the one he wished he'd followed through, was silence. Keeping quiet, never saying anything about it. Possibly not even to Merlin. But then begged the question. Would he have been able to cope, knowing, and knowing that Merlin didn't. _Would that have been bearable?_

Arthur was usually the optimist, always finding some way of assuring himself that his 'run-between-the-raindrops' quality would prevail. But now he knew it wouldn't. He wouldn't be able to tell Merlin how he felt, and he was left without a father. He would be forever alone, and the thought was enough to kill him. _That is, unless Merlin had worked it out... But no, Merlin was far too selfless to consider the possibility that someone might _love_ him. He would deny it until he convinced himself that no one ever would. Merlin would be just as lonely as him. _


	8. Chapter 8

_**Sorry It's so short...**_

Chapter Eight

Arthur crept back into the dormitory and slipped gracefully into the bottom bunk, trying desperately to keep hushed. But the sobs were constantly splitting the silence like knives through butter. And the supposedly sleeping Merlin was inhaling the separating butter like a helpless victim would inhale arsenic. It was poison, and it shook every muscle in his body without pausing to give his inflamed mind a rest.

―

Merlin listened for less than a quarter of an hour, fighting the urge to climb down the ladder and hold the weeping boy in his arms, to stroke his hair and tell him that whatever had happened didn't matter. Before tilting his wrist to read his watch, a quarter past eleven. Arthur had had dinner as usual, he knew that because he was there, then, they came back to the dorm, Merlin had read for an hour, Arthur had sat for a bit and then sat beside Merlin to read the same book. He had thought it strange as Arthur didn't know how the story had begun. Then, at ten thirty, Arthur had left, his spirits had been exceptionally high, as if his earlier confession had lifted a weight off his shoulders. Which it no doubt had. And now _this_. There was only one possibility in Merlin's mind. _Uther_. It had to be. He'd strived to destroy his son again, over what? Merlin couldn't tell.

The sobs underneath him, the ones that were driving steel through the back of his heart with every replenished moan, were starting to subside. Becoming slower, quieter, with greater, heavier sighs in between. He was sleeping, but in his sleep he was still crying, still thinking about the reason for his grief.

Merlin thought again about the smile that had been on Arthur's face before he had succumbed to his father's odium. And then compared it to the twisted, poignant face he was seeing now, hanging himself over the side of the bunk bed. He climbed effortlessly down the ladder, his feet barely touching each of the steps. He stood over the blond, watching him with all the intents of a doctor. In his opinion, Arthur was ill, so ill, no medicine would have a hope in hell of curing him. There was only one thing that Merlin knew Arthur held close enough to cause him to regain that smile. And it was not materialistic. But a memory. The memory that Arthur had kept replaying in his mind, and that Merlin had not let himself forget, knowing that if it meant something to Arthur, it would mean_ ten thousand_ times that to him.


	9. Chapter 9

_**This is nearly entirely drivel, but I hope you'll forgive me. Could possibly be the finale, I haven't quite decided yet...**_

Chapter Nine

"Arthur,"

A voice was drifting in and out of his subconscious, bleeding into the argument that was screaming through his dreams. And Arthur responded, taking it's hand, ready to let it pull him from the horror of his father's face and to that boyish, grinning, adorable face he never wanted to lose. "_Merlin,"_ he replied, still not entirely with it.

"Arthur, wake up, your eyes aren't even open," Merlin chuckled, too excited for words about what he had just done, (_Careful)_

"Don't be stupid, I don't need my eyes open to argue with you..." Arthur muttered, much to Merlin's confusion,

"What? Why would we be arguing?"

Arthur stirred, eventually his eyelids flickered open, sticky with dried tears and red with strain, "Merlin, what are you doing?"

"I'm taking you out," Merlin smiled, and Arthur had to gasp for breath, overcome by the sheer delight it exuded. But also wondering if he'd misunderstood the statement.

"Excuse me?!"

"Nope, I'm not going to explain anymore. Explanation's never really explain anything, and plus, it's a surprise," he laughed, his excitement heightening his voice and bringing it in and out of audibility, "But you need to get up," he took a deep breath, and the obviousness of how happy Merlin was with himself was already rubbing off on Arthur. Like a light would pierce the darkness, Merlin was flooding his anger and sadness with a serene contentment.

"Right away, _sir,"_ he mocked and reluctantly hoisted himself up and out of bed, feeling queasy at what he saw. "Merlin..." he was speechless. The room was a tip, shoes and underwear strewn all across the floor, hangers thrown aimlessly into corners, but it wasn't that. It was the string of untidily tied together clothes, wrapped around the bottom bed post and then disappearing out of the window, that stung his chest.

"I don't know if this is how it happened, well, obviously it's not because it was you who made the string, not me. And I don't know if this is exactly what you meant by a string of clothes, but I did my best, and this is how I imagined it. I'm almost certain it's pretty close though..." Merlin was rambling, getting redder and redder with anticipation, fidgeting like a small child.

Arthur grabbed his shoulder and pulled him towards him, and drawing him into a tight embrace. He'd wanted to do more, but he didn't want to spoil what Merlin had done for him. Only one question remained. "Why?"

Merlin, at first, couldn't summon enough breath nor sanity to answer, at least not coherently. His heart was swelling again, bursting out of his chest as if it would scatter pink fireworks across the ceiling, painting the walls and floors fuchsia with glittering dust. He grabbed Arthur's shoulders back, only he pulled him away from him. He didn't think he could endure the heady scent any longer without being able to... "You were upset, last night..." Arthur opened his mouth to object but Merlin put a finger on his lips, which made Arthur shiver. The soft cold running thin fingers down his spine. "Don't pretend you weren't, I both heard and saw you," he sighed, breathing out the amount of Arthur's breath he'd been trying to hold in his mouth, "I wanted to cheer you up, I knew it could either go horribly wrong or quite well, I just hoped for the best,"

Arthur was grinning, he couldn't control what his mind was thinking. He looked around at Merlin's work, wallowing in the idea that Merlin had done _all of this_ for him. "Come on," he slapped Merlin on the top of the arm and beckoned for him to follow. He lowered himself down the rope, and Merlin regarded with silent joy at how effortless the leap was. In fact, he almost spiralled down the rope. _He could tell he'd done it before._

―

Arthur was now at the bottom of the rope, staring up at the boy he suddenly knew he could not live without, the boy stood on the white window ledge, gripping to the spare wood beside him for dear life. And he could not help but smile.

"Merlin, don't be a wimp, grab the rope. That's it. You're going to have to turn around, you won't get down forwards! Wrap your legs around it..." he gasped, his last words driving something in his stomach to a muffled form of ecstasy. "Seriously, I do despair of you sometimes,"

"All right, all right," Merlin whispered back, his voice incredibly unsteady, he hadn't thought about his own reaction. It hadn't seemed important that he would potentially be risking his life to win Arthur. Because, when it came down to it, that's what he was trying to do, _win Arthur._ And now he knew it, he would climb out of a billion windows if it meant he could be with him.

That was all he needed to spur him downwards, not the thought of a billion windows, but the realisation of why he was doing this. This was his last chance...

He fumbled around for another knot to put his foot on, and blindly climbed down the following metre, and then the next, and the next. Putting a shaking foot on the ground in no less than fifteen minutes. By which time, Arthur's hysterical laughter had been and gone, making it's impression on Merlin's mind, resembling the noise of Arthur's happiness when they had read together.

He stood on jellied legs and turned to Arthur, who was sat against a twisted Oak, pulling pieces of frosted grass in half. "Wahey! Nice to see the idiot's decided to join me," the boy said, pulling himself to his feet, hiding the truth in his words behind the teasing punch of sarcasm.

"Yes, well, I don't know if you've realised, but you look a complete _Prat_ in those reindeer slippers!" Merlin snapped gesturing to Arthur's feet, but his voice was never harsh, he quickly changed the subject, no wanting to sound coarse, "Right, which way?"

Within the second Arthur had Merlin's hand, not feeling the need to hide anything from him now. This was the time. He knew it. He dragged him between the trees, running as he had run on that camping night, running aimlessly, only for a different purpose. He didn't want his mind to be cleared, he wanted it to be full. Full of Merlin, full of how he felt. He wanted it to enhance the very essence, the very spark of who he was, what he stood for, and what he wanted. And Merlin was, and always had been, the key.

"Woah, Arthur, slow down! you should know by now I'm not good on my feet," he shrieked, after having to straighten his flicking legs after they'd decided to swing out from underneath him.

"I'm not slowing down! Why should I? I'll carry you if I have to!" Arthur laughed, and Merlin giggled at the suggestion, considering the option of deliberately throwing himself onto the floor so Arthur would have to. But, then, he didn't know how long he could go with that selfish act on his conscience.

"I thought you didn't want to have to carry me, remember?"

Arthur did remember, back, only two days ago, but it felt like years, decades even. A different reality, so much had changed inside him. That uncertainty blossoming into assurance, confidence. Even then, when Merlin had been struggling to stay on his feet, he would have gladly carried him. Any chance to be closer to the person that captivated him so entirely.

Arthur swung around a tree, and into a clearing. The moon sending alabaster golden rays scattering across the uncut grass, weaving between the trees and casting crisp defined shadows. Arthur turned back to Merlin, tearing their hands apart as if their skin had fused together. And to both of them, secretly, it felt as though it had.

―

Merlin was distracted, he didn't know if Arthur had been talking, if he wanted Merlin to talk or if it was even necessary. He was completely enthralled by the vision in front of him, like a painting, a photographically realistic painting, that was _too_ radiant to be real. The only validation that he was even alive was the playful ruffle of his hair in the wind. But even that was diminished by Arthur. The white-gold shimmer sparkling off his hair, the twinkle of gentle, subtle, kind mischievousness in his eyes, and the shadows of lashes, cheekbones and lips that darkened the hollows of his face. Earlier, he had thought Arthur in the sunlight to be like a sculpture, a sculpture that no one would ever see the like. But this was entirely different, measured on a different scale of gloriousness. Once Merlin had seen this, he knew, _nothing would ever be called beautiful by his lips again._

―

Arthur was thinking much the same, only the object of his affections required such different comparisons. The playful smiled that drew all attention to his lips, the blissfully calm swimming of his turquoise eyes and the light that danced on the tops of his cheekbones and highlighted the tips of his ears, were all so much lighter. 'Captivating' was no longer a word Arthur felt he could realistically use to describe Merlin, it was too shallow. As if the only thing that Arthur ever saw in him was his appearance. Which at the beginning was probably true. But now, after what Merlin had done, and the thought that he'd thunk to stumble across it was mind-blowing. Merlin was every person in the world, filtered, perfected and then squeezed into one skinny, pale body. But the worst bit was, the bit that got to Arthur most, made him jealous, made him angry, made him hurt, but made him love, was the fact that it all fit perfectly inside this tiny body without a problem, and with no room for hostility and greed, as if Merlin had been cast this very shape to allow those peaceful, remarkable qualities to crawl inside him. To make him outstanding. Perfection in human form. Arthur could only hope to be like him. At least in a way, he _had_ _only hoped to be _like _him._ But now he realised, he just wanted to be_ with_ him. Whatever it took. However many father's he would lose, and how many enemies he would make. He would bring all the shame it took over his father and his reputation. As long as he had Merlin. _He didn't care._

―

Arthur lay down in the willowy green slips, almost disappearing completely from sight. If it wasn't for the glow that his hair was emitting, Merlin would have lost him entirely. His hands were behind his head, as they had been in the tent, but despite the bitter evening chill, he was warm. Hot even. Hot with burning desire that fizzed with elation.

Merlin hesitated at first, but then nervously wandered over to him, crouched, and laid beside him. Casually shifting his foot so he carefully brushed Arthur's toes, the antlers of the reindeer, which made him chuckle internally. He thought it strange how the slightest contact made him feel _even_ better, as if he felt closer to him emotionally. He thought Arthur hadn't noticed. But, of course, he had.

Grass was tingling against his forehead, blocking Arthur from view, but for once, he didn't feel the need to look at him to appreciate him. He was happy just being so close. Knowing that all he had to do was reach out, and he could touch...

"Arthur?" he asked, his voice just a breathy sigh,

"What is it now, Merlin? I was just enjoying the quiet," he teased in response,

"When you were fourteen, what did you do? I mean, once you'd snuck out," he didn't want to be seen as nosy, but he wanted to prompt Arthur into conversation, so he could hear his voice.

Arthur didn't reply at first, not quite understanding why the question had been asked. And then, like a choker around his neck being mortally tightened, he felt it. He'd said that Merlin was too selfless to figure out his feelings, but he knew that he, himself, was not. He would consider the possibility, let it roll around his tongue, through his conscious mind, and then patter through his subconscious, until he finally believed it. He thought back, searching for clues, his mind drifting back to when he first met Merlin. In physics. What had he said, it was something that Arthur had heard, part of him wanted to read it as something, but part of him extinguished that thought before it could progress into a belief.

_" Mum reckoned this place would _straighten_ me out," _

He gasped internally, then turned back to the question in hand. Eyes wide, propping himself up on his elbow so he could see that face again above the long un-mown grass. He grinned, openly, "nothing much, I was too young to... Initiate something too serious," he smiled as Merlin raised an eyebrow, "I guess my father's kind of right in a way, it was just because I could, even thought at the time it felt like something ridiculously huge. Y'know, _love,_"

He'd said love as if it were some forbidden word, which made Merlin's heart tingle, "and, did you see this boy again?"

"Yes, for a few days, we decided to... _Split up_," he grimaced at how awful that sounded, "after my father's reaction." Arthur was watching Merlin, with that ablaze intensity in his eyes again_, 'This is it,_' he kept thinking_, 'This is really it_',_ "_But Merlin, there's something I think you should know, and, please," he begged, pleading with both himself and Merlin_, how much could anyone want a happy ending_,_ "_I'm only telling you because I know you have a right to find out..."

Merlin was enduring an out of body experience, his soul now an entirely different being to his body. Arthur's words were making him _hope_, that was something he'd _hoped_ they wouldn't do. He didn't dare... He couldn't think that... He wouldn't let himself...

"I thought that was it, I thought that was what it felt like. When I snuck out, I thought that was what defined me, I thought that my feelings for that boy were... _Everything there was to feel._ And at the time, I didn't want that to change, I thought it never would..." he paused, eyeing his companion closely, assessing whether or not he should go ahead, whether or not Merlin was in an understanding mood as he had been earlier that afternoon. But something in the back of his head forced him to speak. That inkling that this was _his last chance_. At least, it felt like it.

Merlin nodded him onwards, still innocent with that denial Arthur had spoke of,

"But, then, I met someone else, someone who at first, I thought nothing of. Only that he had an unusual face, and an unusual unconditional kindness. Of course, it was only natural that I should be... _Captivated_," he winced, _he didn't want to have to use that word, but he could find no other,_ "I got to know him, recently, and I realised that he wasn't just kind and attractive. He was selfless, thoughtful, and insanely perfect." he sighed again, blowing warm air against Merlin's cheekbones. "I'm sorry Merlin, I know you never meant to have this affect, but I just couldn't help it..."

Merlin was watching, in euphoric awe. Making all the connections before Arthur had had the chance to speak them. And he was aching, aching all over. With frustration, desire and disbelief. _If only he'd known sooner, who knows what would have happened_?

Merlin too propped himself up on his arm, face mere millimetres from Arthur's. Their trembling breaths fighting against each other, creating some invisible barrier that seemed to be keeping them apart, but at the same time, _so close_. "Arthur..." he murmured, reciting all the clichés in his mind, trying desperately to find one that would do how he felt justice, _'I've never met anyone like you before, nothing can compare to how I feel, you cannot begin to understand how much I have come to love you, I cannot put into words my emotions'._ But none of them. His feelings were not words, as many would assume they were. They were fires, and ice, and darkness, and light, and sugar, and salt, and the air, and the ground, the sky, and the water, the day and the night. Lifeblood and death. Unconditional and shattered. Irreversibly pure.

He didn't think. It was not like he needed to anymore. As Arthur's icy lips brushed, caressed his own, he was no longer the speaker of words, just emotions. A cloud of brilliant feeling. The nerves and blood and adrenaline that made you feel were all that he was aware of. That and the slip of a tongue against his lower lip as he turned his head. Giving in to something he'd never wanted to fight.

Arthur's free hand ran along Merlin waist, causing the shudder of pleasure that he'd desired. Eventually resting on the back of the dark-haired boy's head, threading it's fingers through the soft tresses, pressing their lips closer together. Teeth clicked under the pressure, their mouths heating with the pressure, the pain. But it only increased the pleasure, amplified their determination for _more_ pain, more pressure. The more it hurt, the more Merlin felt he was healing. The more he felt the aching pang ricocheting through his skull, the more he wanted it. Arthur's breath bounding off his skin gave him reason to move in closer, he wanted... No, he needed, to be warmer...

However, if we delved into the mind of Arthur, as we delved into Merlin's description. There would be silence. He didn't think, that was what he was like, what he was_ actually_ like. Being confronted by his father, that was the only reason he would ever need to think again. To face his father. But with Merlin, now they both knew, he could get away with the perfect ignorance of just letting Merlin do the thinking. Arthur would talk, and Merlin would think. Two necessities that would be useless without the other. Two bookends, although the comparison is typical. The blue of the sky and the blue of the sea. A spear and it's wielder. Two hands. Two lips.

_Two sides of the same shining coin._


	10. Chapter 10

_**I will understand if you don't like this chapter, it's a little...strange...**_

Chapter Ten

That was it. Arthur left his father's office with a smile on his face. That previous acceptance that he would be without a father and without Merlin had fled him as an ocean would eventually leave the shore. Or engulf it. Arthur still wasn't quite sure which one had taken over. But he felt better for it either way.

His father's last words were ringing in his ears, like the sound of a horn blaring to announce the beginning of an execution. _There was no turning back now_. Not after what had just been said,

―

_"Arthur! You listen to me!" Uther had beckoned his crying son to step closer to him, overwhelmed by an uncontrollable sense of hatred and betrayal, and for the first time, he'd felt that killing his son was within his swollen mind's reach, "you come in here, and _dare_ to ask my permission, to... To... _I can't even _speak_ the words_!" he'd screamed, as he'd screamed the night before. As Arthur could imagine he would only ever scream at him again. _

_"But, father! I don't understand why you can't just accept that if Merlin is the person that makes me happy, that I am going to be with him, regardless of what you say!"_

_"I cannot allow you to shame my family in this way, you are supposed to be _my son_, to follow in my footsteps, to carry on with what I have achieved!"Uther had paused, studying his son with a conspicuous eye, gauging what his son was asking, for the first time, _he actually felt himself think about it_, "But, then, perhaps _that_ is the problem, perhaps you are _too much_ like me..." he'd barely whispered those final few words,_

_Arthur stared at his father, unsure of what he'd meant, "Father, I am your son," he'd stated, watching his father's watered eyes carefully, "of course, I am like you, but aside from your arrogance, I fail to see the relevance," _

_"I don't want to talk about this anymore..."_

_"Oh stop it, you can't say something like that and then expect me to just forget it! you're acting like a child," for a brief second all of Arthur's anger had been replaced by curiosity and a strange wave of affection an adult might feel for a stubborn child. Role reversal in a way._

_"It's unimportant..." he turned away from his son,_

_"I hardly think so, and anyway, even if it wasn't important, I'm still interested," he shot his father a smug smile, that could be seen as nothing less than incredibly supercilious. _

_"No."_

_"Come on! Tell me!" he nagged, repeating himself over and over, "Tell me! Please! I'm not leaving until you have!" and his father was getting more and more frustrated,_

_"Because I used to be like you!" he'd yelled, charging towards his son as if he was about to pin him against the wall, a flat palm to his throat. Arthur had stopped. And stared at the crazed flicker behind his father's iris'. He's stood, quite unable to move, wondering if he'd misunderstood. "I used to be like you, I thought it was everything, just as you do now." he sighed, giving in to the part of him that needed his son, and the part of him that needed his son to _know_. "But back then, there wasn't really much of a choice, I loved your mother, I really did. But..."_

_"Who was it dad?" Arthur didn't know whether he should be happy, that this new truth might give his father a reason to _live_ with what his son was, like an unbreakable contract , or angry, that his father had ever loved anyone other than his mother._

_"Morgana's father." Arthur could see by Uther's eyes he was internally cursing himself, "I wouldn't have taken her in if I hadn't. She would have gone to an orphanage or been adopted or something." he gripped his son's arm with such force that Arthur had to grit his teeth to hold in a yelp of pain, his eyes were tilted down in an emphasis of pain, aguish and pain. "I couldn't..." he whispered, sheer desperation in his eyes. He was begging his son, although even he, himself, didn't realise it. "I couldn't abandon her, not when she reminded me so much of him. I still couldn't let him go,"_

_Something clicked in Arthur's brain, something he could use, something he could hold against his father should he feel it was necessary. 'He had been with his mother at the time, and he'd still loved Morgana's father. That went against everything his father had stood for. He may even have been unfaithful,'_

_Arthur had welcomed the assumption like a child with a bag of sweets, eager, and excited. _

―

He'd left after this, content in that he now had authority over his own father. This, he would not use for selfish means, other than the fact that he could now be with Merlin without having to hide. He would use it to gain his father's acceptance. He knew Uther well enough to know that hypocrisy was not something he could keep up for long, not after he knew he was just as bad as Arthur.

"Merlin, I've got something to tell you," Arthur announce, rounding the dormitory door, addressing the dark-haired boy sat on his bed,

"Oh, yeah? Went that bad then?" he assumed, not quite having the strength to lift his head up to meet Arthur. Not yet, anyway.

"No, completely the opposite, actually,"

"What? He's accepted it,"

"Not quite..."

"So it did go bad then."

"No, shut up, Merlin. God. You've never spoken so much,"

Merlin didn't reply,

"No, my father, is, well... He's _gay_,"

Merlin was off the bed and had Arthur's head between his hands in mere seconds, "What?!"

"He's gay, so he'll have to come 'round soon, or else he'll have to live with himself loosing a son over his own hypocrisy," Arthur kissed Merlin, gently at first, savouring the fact that he now knew it would never have to end, and then more urgently.

Merlin was surprised at how happy he was that _Uther_ was gay.

He pulled away from the blond momentarily, "wait, you'd honestly give up your father _for me?_"

"Hell yes, any day of the week..." Arthur was going to expand, but Merlin had silenced him with his mouth again. He knew enough.

_**Sorry, this is a bit rubbish, but the idea came to me at about eight this morning, and I couldn't resist. I was laughing hysterically whilst writing this (even though the chapter itself is highly un-funny). God knows what mum thought.**_

_**Anyway, I am going to carry on with this, see what happens with some snow or something like that, back at school, with Gaius and Hunith, and then. Also, I've realised that after the second chapter I entirely forgot to include anything more with Morgana and Gwen, so I think I'll have to bring them back. **_

_**Anyway, thanks for the perseverance. **_


	11. Chapter 11

_**In a way, this is sort of the beginning of a separate story, or book, to the other chapters. They're not in France anymore, and it's more about sustaining a relationship rather than building one. So I'm guessing finding plots will be harder. **_

_**And someone, (I don't know if I can mention names) said about my plot going all awry, I'm sorry, but it is my first. I'm hoping consistency will come with practise. And also, that thing with writing down my plots, I tend to get bored and then give up. I prefer to just let myself write what I want to and when I want to. Sorry if it's kind of ruining it for you. **_

_**Oh, and thank you for the reviews! You make me the happiest person alive!**_

Chapter Eleven

"Gaius!" Merlin peered out of his bedroom door and down the stairs towards the kitchen, where his Great Uncle Gaius was washing up after breakfast, and yelled, waiting for the script-like reply,

"Yes, Merlin, what is it now?" he called back, not turning in the boy's direction,

"I was wondering..."

"That's always a worry," he cut him off, chuckling to himself.

"No, listen." he pointed a stern, but unseen finger at his uncle, "I was wondering if I could have a friend over later, y'know... for dinner," he thought about the prospect for a moment, and then raised his eyebrows. Contemplating how it sounded. Did boys have friends over for dinner? Was that the done thing? _No_, it didn't matter. This was just friends getting together for dinner. Just Arthur and Merlin. Alone. Eating dinner... _It did sound like a date...would Gaius see it like that?_ He dearly hoped not. At least not yet. Not until he'd had a chance to say it properly. This evening was just to see how they got on, see if Gaius _approved_ of Arthur. Although, frankly, Merlin found it inconceivable how anyone could help but approve of Arthur. One smile and he should have his uncle in the palm of his hand. _But, then, Gaius wasn't gay._ But wouldn't that be another interesting twist, _If a little repetitive_.

Merlin had gotten so distracted he'd forgotten he was supposed to be listening for an answer. Gaius' voice snapping him back into the white-walled reality. "Well, that might be a but of a nuisance. Hunith is coming for dinner..."

_Hunith..._

_Perfect, he could gauge his mother's opinion as well. He'd always had an inkling that his mother knew about his sexuality, he'd just never pursued it before. _"Mum won't mind,"

Gaius was making his way up the stairs, and Merlin cursed. _He wasn't dressed,_ his mind had wandered and he wasn't anywhere _near_ ready, "She may not tell you that she mind's, but don't you think some time alone with your mother would be good? After all, she hasn't seen you in two weeks."

Merlin had darted into his bedroom and was stood holding the door closed whilst trying to shake off his pyjamas, "Two weeks isn't very long," but really, his rational, sensitive mind had just been overruled by the instinct to bring Arthur into the family, to make him congregate with those close to him. _And decide whether eloping would be necessary in the future...okay... So that's a little too drastic... But he had considered it. Should the worst come to the worst._

"Well, if you think so..." he paused, "Merlin, why aren't you in the study sorting out your books?" Gaius rapped four fingers on the young boys wooden door, before trying the handle...

"Because..!" he frantically looked around, stopping the old man in his tracks in fright at the loudness of his explanation's start, before seizing his coat off of his bed and shaking it in the direction of the closed door, "Because I forgot my coat was up here!"

"Merlin, you coat is always in there... Honestly." Gaius shook his head, "and why do you need it to sort out your bag?"

"God! What is this?! An interrogation?!" he yelled back, becoming increasingly nervous, but still unsure of why he was getting so stressed about it... As if _Gaius_ would be angry.

The old man sighed, "You weren't dressed were you?"

"No."

"Well get a move on, I've got to pick up Katrina from the station and take her into the main Practitioners, as a favour for Edwin. I don't want to keep her waiting," he turned and walked away, feeling the mildest bit annoyed,

"You can leave, I'll catch the bus!"

"Don't be ridiculous. The half-seven one left at exactly that, and the next bus doesn't pass the bus-stop until ten, and I won't have you being late for your lessons."

Merlin scrabbled together his coat, forgetting to buckle-up the belt on his jeans and he didn't even touch his hair.

Gaius raised an infamous eyebrow when he saw him, ruffled and untidy,

"What?!"

Gaius just walked out of the front door. Not finding the energy to argue.

―

Now, to tell Arthur the good news.

He ambled into school with the assertion of a mouse, his arms hanging loosely at his sides and a look in his eyes that said, _'don't mess with me... Please..._' and he could hear it in his breathing. The past four days had been long enough for him to get used to the lack of eye contact people gave him, or the too-intense eye contact others would. The only people who weren't ignoring him were Gwen, Morgana, and then of course, _Arthur_. But it would have been plain strange if _he'd_ been ignoring him. Oh, and then there was Freya. She didn't seem bothered. He'd spoken to her a few times and she seemed nice enough, but then, for all he knew, she was laughing behind his back as well.

He saw him by the lockers, pulling out book after book, and replacing them with books that looked almost identical to the ones he'd pulled out, and stuffing them into his bag with a non-existent respect. He had to hold back a sigh of adoration just from looking at him. The way he had to flick a lock of golden hair from in front of his eyes made his chest bubble with excitement, an unreasonable and nearly inexplicable excitement. But one that Merlin enjoyed.

"Arthur," he said, approaching the boy, and revelling in the beaming smile that burst into existence on Arthur's face as they made eye contact.

"Merlin," he looked around him, before sighing at Nimueh, who was watching quite intently. He felt too uncomfortable when she was around. Although he knew he shouldn't have to worry, he still did. Morgana had told him the sort of person she was, and how easily she could be pushed too far.

"I've got good news," he started, although the girls presence was taking the joy out of him. He was finding it hard to show just how excited he was,

"Gaius said 'yes'" Arthur deduced,

"Pretty much, but only to dinner, he doesn't know about..." he glanced over at Nimueh again, "_us,_"

"Oh well, no big deal. You can tell him when you're ready," Arthur kissed the shorter boy on the lips, just gently. In full knowledge of what hell could potentially break loose with Nimueh stood so close, but he needed Merlin to know he was behind him all the way (_Careful again!_) and that was the only way he knew how.

They walked half-heartedly, as if they had all the time in the world, their feet freely dragging them along the corridor that lead to their form room, but neither had any intention of going in. They would just walk slowly until the bell went, both thrown into silence in the few minutes that passed before that familiar ring, as if the hazardous eyes that had previously watched them had pushed them dangerously close to a mutual unease. Although, Merlin knew that _one girl_ shouldn't be enough to pull them apart. Not a girl as lonely as her. Well... just _not a girl._

Arthur tugged Merlin's waist, pulling him closer, getting that heady rush as he felt Merlin's skin underneath his t-shirt. Then kissed him on his cheek, before turning down the next corridor. The pale boy promptly blushed, watching Arthur for a moment, admiring the strong, confident gait with which he walked, and wishing the he could be as self-assured.

He twisted marginally, and right on cue, Gwen winked at him. He followed her beckoning hand over to her locker, and leant against one of its neighbours, still staring down the path that Arthur had taken. "Morgana said it's strange," she looked at him, smirking, "how you've been the only one to turn Arthur's head for years, apparently he barely looked at anyone,_ not even the Swedish exchange boy Jorge_," she laughed, "although, that means nothing to me... I don't even know what he looked like, only that he stayed with the family next door to Arthur and Morgana... And had brown hair..." she rambled on,

Merlin felt positively giddy, _he'd been the only one_.

He'd spent the beginning of the week apologising to Gwen for not speaking to her very much when they were in France. But after three days, he'd realised that she wasn't at all put out by it, in fact, she'd said they weren't exactly _good-enough_ friends for her to miss him. He'd been slightly offended, claiming that he'd thought they were at least on miss-able terms. But apparently not. So all was forgotten.


	12. Chapter 12

_**Okay, so first things first, I have now decided, with a bit of rational thinking from Merthurtillidie, that Chapters 1 – 10 will be collectively called **_**Book One**_**, and Chapters 11 – whenever, will be imaginatively called **_**Book Two**_**. **_

_**And Luff-Chan, what I said at the top of Chapter 11, I didn't mean for it to sound as though I thought you had been mean, I just meant that I understood what you were saying and thought you deserved an explanation. I'm sorry if it came across a bit weird. **_

_**Thank you for the reviews! And please persevere with this chapter, I know not a lot happens but I started writing it and then decided if I included any more the chapter would be insanely long, **_**and I can't be doing with that**_**. **_

Chapter Twelve

"You're nervous," Arthur said, squeezing the hand that was clasped in the non-existent space between them,

"Why shouldn't I be? We've got to act like _friends_, that's going to be hard," Merlin replied, but that wasn't the only reason. _This was the first time he'd properly caught a bus... On his own._ And he was feeling physically sick. _When did he press the stop button? Did he need to keep out his bus ticket? So many questions, and with no confidence to ask them._ Admittedly, this morning _would_ have been worse, then he would have been entirely on his own. He was just thankful Gaius was soft enough to let him get away with it.

"It shouldn't be too difficult, just don't make body contact unless it's unintentional, _and..._" he sniggered, draping the once clasped hand around Merlin's neck and grinning, "You'll just have to resist the burning desire to kiss me,"

Merlin smiled, but wasn't put at ease, not like Arthur had intended. But then, it was just like Arthur to assume that putting an egocentric sentence like _that_ one in would put everything right. Not that Merlin minded, in fact, usually, he would relish the normality. Arthur's ability to _theoretically_ improve himself with words was a trait that Merlin adored; no matter how much it should irritate him.

The bus lurched to the right, and Merlin gripped the top of the seat in front of him as if someone had just been trying to throw him off a cliff. He'd gasped insanely loudly, and Arthur was now leant forwards watching him very closely, a snap reaction that surprised himself with its genuine concern, "Merlin, you look ill..."

"I'm fine..."

A smile was creeping into existence on Arthur's flushed cheeks, it bloomed into a grin, then he snickered with it, and then he nigh on guffawed, "You haven't caught a bus before have you!"

Merlin didn't answer,

"I can't believe it! You only caught it because you thought I'd think less of you if we got a lift!" Arthur was clapping, exceptionally noisily, and Merlin didn't have enough fingers to count the number of people that were turning around to see what all of the fuss was about. _How embarrassing._ Merlin elbowed him in the ribs, and his laughter was interrupted by an almighty squeal. Although, it had sounded more like a hiccup. "What did you do that for?"

_'Oh, now_ he was whispering!' "Because I don't want to attract any unwanted attention, and plus, _you're embarrassing me!_" he hissed back,

"_Oh, I'm sorry_!" he barked with bitter sarcasm, "But, you just made me yelp, _quite loudly_! So _now_ everyone thinks I'm completely deranged!"

"I think you're overreacting,"

"I think _you_ were overreacting!" and he turned away, so Merlin couldn't answer. Knowing that he'd won. Merlin just huffed.

"I'm sorry," the skinny boy murmured, his ability to maintain an argument being middling to none.

"Blimey, you didn't keep that up for long, did you?" Arthur murmured, but never apologised. '_Stubborn arse,' _Merlin thought, but then mentally retracted the statement, worrying that he'd be in some way punished for thinking badly about his boyfriend. '_Stupid superstition,'..._ but then had to retract that as well.

"No, well, if I'm going to have to tolerate your _arrogance_ for a_ whole evening_, then it would be even less endurable if we spent the entirety of the time at each other's throats," he teased, and shot Arthur a look that sort of said, '_Hmm_?' But Arthur couldn't find a comeback that fitted; his mood had dropped at a single word, _'Arrogance_'. He'd seen enough of it in his father to know that this was not a trait he wanted. He cupped his head in his hands and squeezed his eyes shut, as if the action would force the inherited characteristic out of his head using the pressure. "_Arthur?"_ Merlin put a hand on the now exposed back and lowered his head as if trying to peer at the hidden face.

"No, it's nothing. Just my father getting in the way, _again_,"

"Why? What's he done now?" Merlin was angry. He didn't even know what Uther had done, but it was making him angry, putting more and more weight on Arthur's back, and tugging at his upper lip. He could do with none of this. Merlin was ready, mind and weapons, _'I'm going to kill him. I'm going to kill Uther._' Of course, threats don't come much more empty and emotionally-fuelled than that.

"He passed his arrogance onto me..."

The anger disappeared tenfold as quick as it had come. Merlin couldn't be angry at something that Arthur was, arrogant, cocky, annoying _or_ infuriatingly beautiful. It just wasn't in him. And now he was annoyed at how stupid Arthur was being, how could he possibly think like that was beyond him. "Oh, for god's sake! I thought it was something serious!" he exclaimed, slapping Arthur on the back of the head.

"And there was you saying you didn't want to argue," Arthur looked up and smiled, soft, warm and without a trace of irritation.

"I don't, but I'm a bit narked about your mood swings! I was fully prepared to kill your father then!"

At least Arthur was laughing again. That contagious laugh that Merlin couldn't fight off, tinkering and echoing and bouncing across every nerve ending in his body, "I don't know what's funnier, the fact you said '_narked_', or the fact you thought you were anywhere near capable of killing my father!" he choked on a laugh, and Merlin seized the opportunity to thwack him on the back again.

―

Arthur shook Gaius' hand like a gentleman, firm, to initiate a good first impression, but friendly, not continuing it whilst he said 'hello'. Merlin thought this would show that it was not Arthur who was of higher authority. _Wise move,_ and he knew his Great Uncle would pick up on it.

Merlin smiled from behind Arthur's shoulder, being careful not to stand too close. But Gaius' eyebrow was raised, he knew something was off. From past experience Merlin knew that the higher the eyebrow was raised, the more serious Gaius was, and the more nauseous Merlin began to feel. "Your mother will be here in twenty minutes, she just phoned,"

Merlin heard Arthur swallow the contents of his mouth all at once. _He'd forgotten to tell him about his mother._ A mistake he really didn't want to have to confront.

Gaius smiled and then tottered off into the kitchen to finish preparing dinner, and Arthur took the opportunity to have a quiet word with Merlin, dragging his elbow to the other side of the sofa, out of Gaius's potential line of view, and hopefully_ hearing_, "So you thought that your mother joining us was a small enough detail to _forget entirely_?!" he practically spat the words, eyes widened with exasperation, and neck careened so his eyes were level with the now terrified Merlin's. Both hands flapped themselves eagerly in the air around Arthur's waist, palms facing upwards.

"I'm sorry; _again_," he rolled his eyes, taking the time to look elsewhere, other than the infuriated Arthur, "surely it's just the same. Only," he pondered the idea for a moment, "only, we get it all over with in one night..."

Merlin hadn't expected such a positive reaction, but the blond _did_ relax. His eyes returned to normal size and he breathed heavily, as if draining his own annoyance. He peered towards the kitchen to see the door was closed, and then pressed his lips to Merlins forehead, "Well, as long as you're sure. I just thought it might have been best to spread the introductions out a bit,"

"It'll be fine, if I know my mum, she'll be only too happy to meet one of my friends," Arthur smirked at that. The word '_friends_' really didn't cover it.

―

Merlin caught Arthur's hand and pulled him up the stairs, feeling queasy at the idea that he was taking _Arthur_ up to his _bedroom_. But what else was he supposed to do? What was normal? He deeply inhaled as quietly as he could as he shut the door behind them, wondering whether or not Arthur was feeling the same uncertainty.

Arthur looked around, taking in the typically blue room. The plain navy duvet spread messily over a double bed, and the rug that covered less than a quarter of the floor. Smiling to himself at the photographs plastered across the walls, taking immense pleasure in seeing one of himself and Merlin, directly over the bed. He thought about his own bedroom, and a copy of the same photo that was in a frame on his desk. That way he could look at it when he did his homework, that way he could ensure he actually _did_ his homework.

"Do you think this is what we're supposed to do?" he asked, turning to face Arthur, who'd sat himself on Merlin's bed without a second thought,

"What?"

"Being in my bedroom," he felt stupid even questioning it, but his heart was flaring at the situation's ambiguity,

He scoffed in response, "Honestly, Merlin, you _are_ a _complete_ idiot sometimes." he laid backwards with his hands behind his head before continuing, "This is fine, I really don't think Gaius will read anything into it. For god's sake, it's just a bedroom," but the word 'bedroom' was driving _pillars_ of adrenaline into Arthur's chest,

The dark-haired boy sighed, and went and sat on the end of his bed, his right side facing Arthur.

"Look," the blond touched Merlin's shoulder, putting a comforting amount of pressure under his fingertips, "Please stop getting worked up about everything, it's really not important. You'll have to tell them sooner or later," there was a tender tone to Arthur's voice that could do nothing but make Merlin believe him, that and the soothing touch on his shoulder that made staying this far away from Arthur impossible,

Merlin leant forwards and took Arthur's lips, finding it queer how easy this had become for him. How little he had to consider it, and how he no longer had to deliberate whether Arthur felt the same. But Arthur pulled back before Merlin's tongue could find its way to his.

"Don't." he simply said, sternness flickering in his eyes, before melting into his usual quaint facade, dry wit panging his language, "remember what I said on the bus," and then, with a brief kiss (because even Arthur knew the last had not lasted long enough), the seriousness returned, "we have to keep up the pretence, one slip and everyone will know, wouldn't you prefer to_ tell_ your mother and uncle rather than them work it out, and think you weren't big enough to tell them?" although he'd posed it as a question, there was only one answer he knew Merlin would give. He would hate the idea that his family would think him a coward. Not that Arthur thought him a coward.

Merlin nodded.

"Are you two boys all right in there?" a dulcet voice crept under the door, and they both jumped at how close it was. Like the voice of someone who'd been spying through a key-hole. Only, luckily, there was no key-hole on _that_ particular door, or Merlin would have died of fright there and then. "Merlin, your mother is downstairs," he added after no one replied.

This Gaius, being Gaius, understood to mean they were doing something that they shouldn't be.

_**I promise more from the next chapter, I just have to gather my thoughts.**_


	13. Chapter 13

_**Okay, Chapter Thirteen... unlucky for some...**_

Chapter Thirteen

"Mum," Merlin shocked even himself by his sudden mounting agitation, just the sight of his mother's plastered-on smile was enough to make his head feel slightly numb. He wanted to see her, but to him, and his brain, seeing her brought him one step further away from Camelot, one step further from Arthur. But he knew he wouldn't leave, and no one could make him. _Not that leaving was even on the agenda_. He still couldn't refrain from making the connection. And his enthusiasm was dying with every second he pondered it. "Mum," he repeated from her shoulder, resting his head against her cheek and inhaling the familiar scent of her floral perfume. Hunith naturally pulled her son into the tightest embrace she could manage, relishing the sense of him, the evidence that he was there. She had missed him dearly. These emotions should have been returned.

"So, how are you?" she pulled her son away from her, at arm's length and eyed him up and down, "You've put on weight," she frowned. She'd always nagged him to put on weight, but now it seemed he actually had it wasn't right, it wasn't _him_. Merlin should be slight, and skinny, and small, not _normal size_.

The boy who was now being perceived as a child was tugging at his t-shirt, checking the fit. He hadn't noticed. Even Arthur was nodding in agreement. Although, he could be just agreeing in the hope that it could possibly put him on his mother's good side. He couldn't tell. It was true, he felt his face, his cheekbones weren't quite as defined, and he looked as his fingers, his thumbs weren't as bony. '_Right',_ he thought, _'my diet starts tomorrow_'. He, like his mother, didn't feel comfortable with his frame being normal size, sharing the opinion that it wasn't him. He remembered on his first day of the new term, being slightly frustrated at his skinniness, but now he wanted it back. "I'm fat," he blubbered, the whimper inaudible to Arthur,

"Oh, don't be ridiculous," Hunith laughed, "you'll never be fat," she eyed her son once more and grinned, _not fat_, _not even podgy. _She turned her attention willingly to Arthur, eyes flashing when she saw his chiselled tanned exterior. Merlin thought he saw her gasp, but that might have just been wishful thinking. _But only wishful at that split moment_, "You are?" she asked, outstretching a hand, whilst the other draped across her stomach and clung nervously to the opposite elbow, her son recognised the stance immediately.

"Arthur, Merlin's friend," an arm untangled itself from the tight knot he was holding firm against his chest, in what could only be described as a defensive stature, and returned the outstretched hand, being careful to make sure the handshake was firm.

"Arthur," she repeated, as if ensuring she would remember the name. Merlin couldn't understand how anyone could forget Arthur. "You're a friend from school," she clarified and the addressed nodded, still holding his mother's hand between them. Merlin, a mere onlooker, felt a pang of jealousy flare in his chest. He knew very well that he had no reason to feel jealous of his mother, she was old, and Arthur was gay. No problems there. _But how dare she hold his hand for so long? How dare she look him in the eye? How dare she hold his gaze with that expression?_ _How dare she talk to him with that flirtatious note to her voice? Arthur was his._ No. After all she was his mother, he would not think her motives were anything other than honourable. He couldn't allow himself to. Merlin hadn't noticed the said hands had broken a minute previous.

His mother pulled him over to the sofa and made him sit beside her, luckily for Merlin, and this he noted, meant that no one could squeeze their self the other side of her. Arthur and Gaius would either have to sit on the other sofa or stand. Shrinking, his mind cowered at his own distrust, Arthur wouldn't do anything to hurt him, and his mother was sensible. His _own_ sudden sensibility sent his chest back to aching to be close to Arthur, _the way things should be._

"So," she started, watching her son intently, as if he were the only thing in the room, the intensity he used to see Arthur with. "Tell me about this trip..."

"Oh, yeah..." the two boys exchanged mischievous glances from their seats, neither finding anything to say, nor prompt a conversation. They sat in silence, making eye contact with no one but each other. Heat prickling up the sides of their necks and flushing their cheeks, whilst Hunith watched, still blinded slightly by ignorance.

"Well, come on then. I know you went to France, but what else? What did you do?"

Merlin smirked. Then the saviour came to him from a place that would resemble heaven (no, I'm not talking about Jesus), and morphed from a memory to an idea in his head not a moment too soon. "We went camping for a night, I forgot just about everything that you need for camping, so as you can imagine it could have gone horribly wrong..."

"What did you do? I do hope you didn't simply freeze that night, you didn't get frostbite did you?" she grabbed her sons face between her palms and once again studied his limbs, dreading the signs that she knew were not there,

"Mum, I'm fine, if you'd let me finish instead of completely loosing it, you'd have heard me say that Arthur let me share his tent," Merlin chuckled, placing her delicate hands back on her lap,

Suddenly feeling accused, Arthur cleared his throat, "Of course, it was one of those tents with more than one bedroom..." Merlin smiled at him in response, thankful that Arthur had been listening enough to hear his mother's heart rate quicken,

"Really? That was kind of you. You must only have known him for a maximum of two days, most people would have taken him to the teachers and then let them sort him out." she pried, tilting her head as if she could see better from that angle, "Why did you help?" she paused, letting the question hang in the air for a moment, letting it enfold itself around and intoxicate Merlin's brain. He'd never thought of that before, but now the question had been posed, he felt the need for an answer, or else it threatened to fry his nerve endings and send his active body into meltdown. Knowing exactly the insecurity she had thrown onto the table, Hunith quickly added, "not saying that I'm not grateful, because truly I am," _there we go... innocence, or at least, _mock_ innocence is key_.

Arthur was staring at Merlin, not in the kind knowing way he had before, but with an emptiness on his face that made him look as though he wanted to say something. Mouth hanging open, eyes widened in apology and burning explanation, but he could force his voice to say nothing. He knew he would have to speak to Merlin later, when his were the only ears. "Yes." Merlin broke the silence, confirming his mother's statement in a round-a-bout way, how he would confirm that his pet had just died. Solemn, longing, and confused.

Merlin continued for a brief five minutes, although the tense air made it feel like hours, re-encountering their short visit to a French school, the magnificence of Pierrefonds and it's Chateau (which the school budget didn't allow them to visit), and eventually the small details of the Youth Hostel. Before Gaius announced that dinner was on the table.

No one spoke for the first few mouthfuls, for Merlin it was more because he was scared he was going to spit it everywhere, but for Arthur it was the awkwardness and dread that followed Hunith's earlier question. Although, for Hunith herself, she was just one of those people who found no necessity in filling every silence with conversation. Gaius just thought it better to let someone else begin the idle and tedious dialogue.

"Will has been asking about you," Merlin looked up at the name, although he did not remember the boy fondly, and was confused as to why his mother had brought him up, "he wants your email address, reckons things aren't quite the same without you cluttering up the village, says he can't quite understand why yet." Merlin was left feeling uneasy,

"I always said there was something about Merlin, something I couldn't quite put my finger on..." Arthur laughed, _nervously_, and it was only Hunith who had the courtesy to join in.

The talk weaned, drooping as no one found anything to add, although Merlin could think of a dozen things he'd like to tell his mother, but none of which felt appropriate. Not yet.

But comfortableness returned, as each others presence grew more usual, and Merlin in particular began to let down his guard. Accidentally mentioning Arthur's reindeer slippers, and how he'd worn them out one night. A mistake Hunith wouldn't rethink until later.

Merlin, thinking about nothing other than the food that was _not on his plate_, reached out and stole a chip of Arthur's, before cringing at the realisation of what he'd just done. Everyone stopped, his mother mid-chew, Arthur midway through stabbing another chip, and Gaius whilst cutting some chicken. Hunith stared at her son, and her son could not help but stare back, looking shocked at himself and mildly ashamed. His original feelings that his sexuality was wrong came flooding back in an instant, and his eyes were giving too much away. Heat tantalising his head. The air surrounding Merlin seemed to slow down, freezing him in the exact position, making it harder for him to breathe and harder for his mind not to swallow him whole. Hunith bowed her head and carried on as she had before, thrusting the truth from her mind as if it were just speculation, the same speculation she'd had since Merlin was just fifteen. Gaius, on the other hand, decided that he would like another glass of water and promptly left for the kitchen.

"Mum..." Merlin started, feeling that now was as good-a-time as any, "there's something that I need to talk to you about..." his mind fumbled for the right words, "something that for some reason I think you already knew... Something that _we _need to tell you," he indicated to Arthur, who was currently glaring daggers,

_'I thought we agreed we weren't doing this tonight!'_ on repeat screaming through his head, but now Merlin had started, there was no way he could stop,

"Mum," he breathed heavily, readying himself for the inevitable explosion, making sure the sentence was as perfectly formed as he could make it, "I'm gay,"

"WHAT?!"

Everyone's heads snapped around, the explosion originating from a different end of the house, _from the kitchen_? Merlin and Arthur exchanged worried looks and then Merlin glanced at his mother, who was watching him with nothing other than love and adoration in her eyes. It wasn't Hunith that was going to be the problem...

"You have been in my house for no less than two weeks, Merlin, and you keep something as serious as this from me, and then bring your _boyfriend_," he spat the word and threw an arm at Arthur, "'round to_ my_ house! Hunith, how can you let your son get away with practises such as these?!"

"Gaius, calm down, please," it was Hunith on her feet, "I cannot believe that this had escaped your notice, a man as... _perceptive_ as you, "Merlin smiled, _she was softening him up_, "I have known, or speculated for quite some time now, that _is,_ after all, why I sent him here. I thought that maybe this was a phase," Arthur grimaced at the repetition of his father's words, _a phase_, "that this new school, one not as _easy_ as his old one back at Ealdor, may pull him out of it," she sighed and turned to her only son, "how could I be angry about something I have known for so long, and have learnt to accept." she wandered over to her son and hooked his arm through the crook of her elbow, "Merlin, would not otherwise, be Merlin,"

Despite Gaius, Merlin's heart had left the constricting cage of his ribs and was running amuck around the living room, sprinting across the ceiling, leaving trails of those pink fireworks again, fuchsia and glittering. Arthur, although Merlin could not see it, was beaming as well.

Gaius had frozen, eyebrow raised higher than Merlin had ever seen it. _He was mad_. "I'm sorry," he said, but this would not turn out to be the apology Merlin, Hunith and Arthur were now expecting, "but such _orientations_ will take time for me to... _Tolerate_."

Merlin and Arthur left for his bedroom. Hunith took Gaius' hand and lead him into the kitchen, closing the door calmly behind them.

Part of Merlin was listening for the sound of sharpening knives.


	14. Chapter 14

_**Yet another chapter that relies on the emotional vulnerability of the characters.**_

_**I apologise in advance to some people, who may get angry at me. I really am sorry, but I need this to happen to open the story up to new Ideas. And also, I know exactly what is going to happen in the last chapter. Very excited about that. **_

_**Thank you for the reviews again!**_

Chapter Fourteen

Merlin slouched on his bed as Arthur closed the door. He didn't know what to do. The reality that Gaius could possibly hate him was sinking in like needles into flesh. He didn't want it to happen, but was certain it was. _His reaction was more severe than Merlin had expected from his mother, and he had been prepared for her... But not for him._

"I'm sorry," Arthur said, resting his forehead against the door. Sounds of sweet sighs rhythmically renounced his mouth. The sound of regret. _He had been smiling, he had felt himself smile. There was no other emotion that could consequence from that but disgust, that all-too-familiar ill-feeling. Merlin's Uncle had insulted everything Merlin was and he had been smiling..._

"Why are you sorry? It's not your fault." Merlin said, his voice flat, thick with tears, and very unconvincing, he didn't know who to blame. Not Arthur? Surely. Gaius? He should have pre-empted that. _Himself?_

"It _is_ my fault, I should have left you alone, I should have let the teachers sort you out with a tent. I shouldn't have put myself in... Well... _In your life_..." he was crying, although, his current emotional instability was probably the reason for that, it was too soon to be crying. Merlin could hear each defined sob. Tears like frozen acid rain tearing through the skin on Arthur's cheeks and burning through the ribs that protected Merlin's heart, leaving him open to pain, and fear, and anger. A sore gaping wound that left him perceptive of everything.

"Don't be stupid, you're completely over-reacting..." he thought about it, his throat clearing for long enough for him to see something that at first sounded like sense, "_Actually, _I think you're being _very egotistical_... I mean, to assume that all of this is about _you_! None of this is about you!" in his head he was screaming, but in reality his voice was small and seemingly insignificant, but the words cut so deep. Throwing himself onto trembling feet he yearned for Arthur's attention, for him to listen to his momentary excuse for reason, but Arthur never turned around,

"Well, _I don't know if this has occurred to you, but_, you didn't have to invite me over," but then Arthur picked up the dagger and went straight for his boyfriends heart, ripping the skin back in curls of red and scattering shards of broken bones, "_You didn't have to take me out that night... You didn't have to get up and build that rope, or wake me up, or lay with me in the grass...you didn't have to _kiss_ me," _but he would have given his life to retract that dagger the second it pierced pale, fragile skin, hearing enough of the pain in the following word, to regret for a lifetime.

"Arthur..." Merlin whispered, sobs escaping his lips like the last bubbling breaths of a drowning man. The air swarmed around his head like water would, and his chest ached, and caned, and internally bled, as if it would burst and split him down his centre. That knife of words was going to kill him. He'd done that selflessly, he knew as much, and he'd done it because of how he felt, he'd wanted nothing more than to stop Arthur crying, "I _did that for you..._"

"Merlin..." Arthur blubbered, as Merlin had sobbed the same, reaching out a hand and gently touching his lover's shoulder. Part of him wishing that the touch would make Merlin forget the curse that he had just spoken, a curse even he, the one who said it, hated the ire behind it, and the words that were spoken. Because he knew they were untrue.

Merlin rolled a shoulder, and Arthur's fingers fell back to his side with a silent thud. The sort of thud that you'd hear on the television as someone's heart beat its last. "Don't..." he couldn't say anything else, not that he believed anything else would have an effect, just slump back on his bed a think of nothing. His mind was flushing out any seed of a thought with its numbness, not letting a single sapling develop into a conscious word. Just silence. Inside his head, as well as out. "All we've done today is argue,"

Arthur could say nothing, knowing exactly what the boy he adored was going to say, and hating the sound it would make as it slipped from his lips and ricocheted around the suddenly empty room, draping the corners, forcing the room into an incredible impenetrable bubble and piercing the sealed sphere that was his mind. Innocent, kind and refined, all qualities that Merlin possessed and would no doubt use, only to hurt. But he wouldn't mean it.

"I don't want to argue with you..." he paused, he just wanted... Well, truthfully, he just wanted things as they had been, maybe blissful ignorance was it. Nothing had happened yet, but he knew it would. And when it came, he would loathe it, "_I'm sorry..._"

"No." Arthur said, his mind splitting and his brains and consciousness spewing across his vision, again, his mind getting in the way of his heart, if he could just... "No, you've done nothing wrong, that's your problem, you never do!" gradually settling himself beside Merlin on the bed, he slipped an arm cautiously around Merlin's shoulders, slowly, ready for them to shrugged off again. But Merlin did the opposite. He laid back into those arms, resting a still head on Arthur's chest and wrapping lean, delicate, and shaking arms around his waist. Gripping onto the only thing that was real, the only thing he wanted to believe was real. "I didn't mean it,"

Merlin sighed, waiting for absolute silence.

Arthur breathed just as heavy, wondering why what should have been a small disagreement between Gaius and Merlin, felt like the end of the world. _Hormones?_ No, he was just... Well... It was Merlin...

"I know."

Arthur looked down at the dark mop of hair that lay just below his chin, unable to smile as he would have liked, as he needed to. And kissed the lock of hair that fell over the boy's forehead, brushing it out of the way with his mouth, where he then rested his chin, finding comfort in the fact that he was still welcome to do so. "The reason..." he breathed, "The reason I was worried about you... _No_," he pressed two sultry fingers to his tear ducts and squeezed, "The reason I let you share my tent, even though I didn't know you, was because I was worried about you. Usually," he stopped again, "Usually, yes, I would have just sent you to my father, but I was fascinated by you..." he imitated throwing something to his right, and both of them could feel the strength with which did it. As if this option took a stronger, more careless man than him.

"Arthur," he cut him off, "you don't have to do this," for the first time in what had felt like ages, and for what was unbearably too long for Arthur, Merlin tilted his head and looked up at him, with pleading, apology and something he couldn't quite place.

"Yes, I do,"

"No,"

"Yes, because maybe if I say it, I'll understand it myself," he sighed, stroking a piece of soft dark hair between his fingers, folding it round and round, until the softness had rubbed off onto his skin. "I just wanted to see you, and by setting you up in my tent I figured I could see you whenever I wanted. Only, when it came down to it, I... Just couldn't look at you, as if I could have just got up and walked into your room and _looked_ at you." He smiled into the boy's hair, remembering how horrible he'd felt that night, but for some reason the memories felt pleasant, "I heard you shivering, and your teeth chattering, and I wanted to... I wanted to try and warm you up, but as if _I could do that_. I can't imagine you would have let me,"

Merlin sniggered, knowing full well how_ he_ had been feeling,

"_You_ are what I spoke to my father about, the feelings that were developing..."

"You make it sound so business-like,"

"He didn't approve, as you could probably tell. And then you woke me up, and... I hardly think you knew quite the storm you'd brewed, and the fact that once it had started, it was only going to get worse,"

"It hasn't got worse," Merlin nuzzled his face into the scent of Arthur's neck, feeling the skin against his own, "It's got better,"

"Listen, and then you'll change your mind."

Merlin did as he was bid.

He'd never heard his mother shout before, not properly. She was... _Screaming_. And Gaius was shouting back. _That wasn't right_. For one thing, his mother was docile, calm and forever kind, _she didn't hurl abuse_. And for another, Gaius never got this angry. He never shouted at Hunith, she was his niece. To all intents and purposes, his daughter.

But then, there was nothing to listen to. The thunder sizzling out into a deafening quiet. There was silence downstairs, the low rumble of voices had ceased, and for less than a measurable second they heard nothing. Then the brief quickening of footsteps up the creaking stairs, and Hunith's voice shouting after him sending ripples of fear through Merlin's body, shaking him where he lay.

"Right," Gaius had flung open the bedroom door, letting it dent the wall it collided with, that ominous eyebrow emphasising the glower that gleamed beneath it. He was trying not to look at them, eyes flickering over to the huddling boys only briefly. Merlin suspected he couldn't bear what he thought was deceit. "You're going to have to leave, I can't tolerate what you're _doing_, and I can't trust you." Droning tones discarded, and his usual self hidden by complacent disappointment, Gaius was turning to leave again, but then, "You have until the morning,"

The door slamming behind him was exactly that. A door slamming between him and his uncle, the man who he'd hoped he could have a father-son relationship with. The man he knew, but the man who now refused to know him. He wasn't upset, he was numb again, just as he had been a few minutes ago; before Arthur cheered him up a bit.

"What am I supposed to do now?"

Arthur didn't answer, too incensed to form any rational thought. All he could picture was himself... With a knife... Next to Gaius. But he couldn't do that, and it wasn't the idea that he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he did it, that stopped him, but it was the thoughts he could imagine Merlin thinking, how quickly he would be to leap from the place in his arms and run. It reminded him of Merlin claiming he was capable of killing _his _father, only Arthur doing the murdering was a lot more probable. But, he wasn't a murderer, but murder was the only thing he could think of...

No. Something better.

"You're going to come and stay with me,"

"Don't be ridiculous, I can't do that, not with your father. Can you imagine how he would react?!"

"Yes, you are," he pushed Merlin gently off him, letting him flop onto the bed and stood over him, kissing him carefully on the lips. To him, Merlin was bruised beyond recognition. The bruising that came with being emotionally pummelled, pummelled by those who were supposed to protect the innocent child that he still was. Fear that he, himself, would do the same was filling him. And the tenderness he touched his lips with was the tenderness the damaged boy deserved. "How badly must you think of me if you think I'm going to leave you _homeless_, you idiot..." he took a savoured deep breath, "...I love you," and laughed slightly, amazed at how good the words felt, and how many more times he felt he needed to say them, for them to have an hope in hell of comparing to how he actually felt.

He kissed him back, no sign of a bruised exterior. Pulling Arthur closer to him with fingers entwined in the shorter, softer hair on the back of his head, the other hand tugging at his waist, crushing them as close together as he could, utilising all of the strength he could physically fathom. Taking the heat and frustration that was mounting out on Arthur's tongue, teeth and lips. Not that Arthur felt the pain he was meant to, he liked the carelessness Merlin was handling him with. Hands slipped down to his thigh, and Arthur groaned as icy fingertips grazed his sensitive hips, cold. And Merlin felt equally cold hands steal under his shirt. It was all becoming too much for him to sustain any self-control, not that he wanted it. With self-control came sensibility, and rational thought, and memory, and hurt. He wanted none of it. Dragging Arthur, the thing that had grasp over both his sanity and his insanity, over _the brink of insanity_, praying that he would never have to return, that Arthur's hands and mouth would hold him there until his mind could extinguish.

But Arthur pulled away. This wasn't right. He knew where this would have gone, and he knew he couldn't let it. "No, not here." he pulled Merlin warily to his feet, stealing one last kiss before reluctantly leaving him. Flattening the desire and lust that was fizzing in his stomach, like Francium in water. Eyes focused untold on the now-pink skin around Merlin's lips, he blinked, but his mind was drawn to the still-tingling skin on his hips. He flung open the wardrobe door with unnecessary vigour, hoping that an excursion of energy would asphyxiate the vigour he was longing to spend elsewhere. And began choosing a selection of clothes, not really seeing what they looked like, or even if he'd chosen outfit's that went. As long as Merlin had clothes, it didn't matter. Anyway, he was sure Merlin looked just as irresistible in a... I don't know... _Gorilla suit_, as he did in skinny jeans. Not that he was suggesting Merlin would have a gorilla suit in his wardrobe. This was good, he was distracted. Okay, so now he was back to Merlin, and the desire crept up again. He'd never felt it his strong before. But he wouldn't let it take him over. He knew better than to take advantage of a confused, dishevelled Merlin. _But his messy hair was just so cute... _

―

With bags in tow, Merlin kissed his mother goodbye. And left. He'd refused to make eye contact with his uncle, he didn't want to cry. Knowing that the disappointment he would see in the eyes he'd wanted to trust with anything, would peel away the awareness he needed and throw him into a pit of oblivious rage and sorrow. He merely brushed past him, his skin acknowledging the slightest touch.

The wind was harsh against his cheeks, but the warmth of Arthur's hand was enough to steer his concentration. He remembered his mother's pleading as he'd left the house. She'd pleaded with Gaius, who was still adamant in his decision, and she'd pleaded with Merlin to return to Ealdor with her. But he hadn't replied. He didn't want to go back to Ealdor, _to Will_. He couldn't be doing with that anymore. This was his new start, and he wasn't just going to abandon it, no matter what. And plus_, he had Arthur now_.

Nothing else his wretched mind thought it needed.

―

"Father, Merlin is staying with us for a while." Arthur announced as his father came to the door, and began walking over to the taxi with confusion in his eyes. Merlin flinched, knowing all too well the misery Uther could thrust upon Arthur, as quickly and unexpectedly as Gaius.

"What? Who's Mer--?" Uther's face fell as he saw the boy, he'd recognised the name, but the confirmation of who it was, was soul-destroying. _How would this phase pass now? With Merlin so close all the time. _He began to pray that Arthur may grow bored; with the _thing_ he wanted so readily available, _he was still a child_. Maybe some hope, maybe the end of his battle. "Right, you'd better come in then."

_**As I said at the beginning, I'm sorry.**_

**_Had to re-upload this chapter because i re-read it and found about a billion typo's. There's probably still some left._**


	15. Chapter 15

_**I hope this chapter sorts out the whole 'Uther's being understanding' thing, because even I don't believe that he is capable of anything of the sort. Sorry, if you thought that after the last chapter, it was unintentional. **_

_**I am aware that I have been using an increasing amount of italics in these chapters. Just thought I'd mention it, because it's bothering me. But it wouldn't sound right without them. **_

_**Thank you, once again, for the reviews, they mean the world. And I'll thank you personally when I've finished this story. Although, I don't know when that will be seeing as I've got writer's block, hence the blandness of this chapter (don't let that put you off though!), I know where I want to go with it, I just can't work out how to get there... and no one say something stupid like 'by train', although I probably would laugh...**_

_**Okay, I'm rambling...**_

Chapter Fifteen

Neither felt comfortable enough to exchange words that night, after hearing Uther's footsteps creak across the landing and pause outside the bedroom door. Only, they didn't hear them move on. Arthur had lay their considering whether or not his lurking father would appreciate a father-son talk, _or maybe a black-eye_. He was willing to give either, _or take the black-eye one step further_. The animosity had been plain in his father's facade from the minute he'd seen Merlin, and he doubted it would fade. Uther was too stubborn to be won over. This was just how things would be.

_But if Arthur had thought this nosy, and controlling..._

By morning, Arthur had summoned the courage to speak through the long stagnant silence. "Merlin,"

"Yes," the curled-up brunette replied, obviously not having been asleep. His voice crisp and shockingly unaffected,

"How are you feeling?" limp arms hung by Merlin's side as Arthur tried to pull him closer, but he would just flop back to where he was.

"..." Merlin simply tightened the grip he had around his own knees, crushing more force into his chest. The sort of position a child with tummy-ache would assume.

"I'll be back in a moment," he mumbled, swinging a leg out of bed and forcing himself to his feet, regarding how vacant Merlin looked, staring blindly at the white ceiling. Managing to feel as little as he could, walking towards the door.

The kitchen tiles were cold against his bare feet, and the draft that was creeping under the back door should have made him shiver. But he resisted, now was not the time for selfishness.

"Arthur?!"

He spun on his heel, hands instinctively held up in a defensive position. Tense, ready to take the bullet from Uther, he relaxed slightly when he saw the raven-haired girl standing in the doorway, "Morgana,"

"What are you doing up? It's only half-past six, _and a Saturday_," she pried, stepping one-step closer to her Step-brother.

"Uh... Don't wake me.... I'm _sleepwalking_,"

"What are you talking about?" she chuckled, forcibly pushing his hands back to his sides, and glaring at him with unmistakable confusion,

"I'm sleepwalking," he repeated,

"No, you're not," she folded her arms, "I can see that you're not,"

"I am,"

"Arthur, have you got something to hide? Because, _you know me_, I will find out," she grinned sweetly, but Arthur could see through that immaculate charade with his eyes closed,

But now Arthur came to think of it, he really didn't have anything to hide. If he was serious about Merlin, what should it matter that he was currently harbouring him upstairs away from the boy's unforgiving uncle? _The anger returned._ "No, nothing to hide... Merlin's upstairs if you want to go and see him,"

"_Merlin_! What's he doing here?" a finger prodded his chest, as if she had already answered the question in her head, suggestive smiles dancing across her lips.

"No, certainly not for that reason." he sighed, the truth is always best. "Gaius kicked him out because he's gay. End of." He blurted, avoiding a deeper conversation that could have originated, and he turned back to the cup cupboard and began making two rather large hot chocolates.

"But... Well that's hardly fair..."

"Well, where else is he supposed to go..!" he yelled, outraged by her selfishness,

"No, no, I mean, it's not fair that Gaius kicked him out,"

"Oh, right, yeah..."

"Listen," she wheedled her way between Arthur and the work surface, "You go back upstairs, I'll make these and bring them up when they're ready," she put a sisterly hand to his suddenly gargoyled face. Distorted for what she took to be ire, but actually he was shocked by how nice she was being. It was not usually in Morgana's nature to be nice without their being some personal gain, maybe she was sympathising...

"Oh, right... Thanks," and he padded out of the door, still thrown entirely off balance.

―

"Where did you go?" a bland Merlin asked as the blond walked back into the room,

"To get hot chocolate, but Morgana offered to get it, so I came back up," he replied, running long fingers through his hair,

"Morgana."

"Yep,"

He paused, before adding "That's nice of her," uncertainly, the change of topic gratefully welcomed.

Arthur sat back beside him and Merlin shuffled so he too was sat. His cheeks were sticky, and Arthur immediately jumped to a gauche conclusion, "You've been crying,"

"What? No I haven't,"

"Yes, you have, I can see that you have," he prodded the smaller boys supposedly 'tear-stained' cheek, and then showed him the _dry_ finger, unsuccessfully as if to say that he was right,

"I don't cry,"

"Merlin, you're allowed to cry at this,"

"No, I _don't_ cry,"

"I'm sorry, but that's a load of rubbish,"

Merlin chuckled, and Arthur's heart melted at the soft, barely audible sound. Serenely happy that Merlin was able to laugh again. The eerie quiet of last-night's Merlin was haunting. He never wanted to see, or hear, it again. "Look, if I wanted to cry, I would, but I don't. I never do,"

Arthur just scoffed, not wanting to push his luck, and letting the fact that that hadn't really made sense pass over his head.

"Did anyone ask for Hot Chocolate?!" Morgana shimmied the door open with her hip and stood, looking radiant-as-ever in her nightdress, with all of her fingers curled around three mugs of steaming Hot Chocolate. A perfectly symmetrical smile split her cheeks.

Merlin smiled, and again, Arthur made sure to remember how it looked. They politely took their mugs but neither took a sip, the steam was enough to tell them that that would not have been a good idea.

Morgana's smile disappeared as she addressed the immediate problem, "I'm sorry to hear about Gaius, Merlin,"

Merlin just shook his head, hoping that his dismay, sadness and inability to talk about it would come across. Arthur backed this up with a cautionary look. Merlin didn't need one of Morgana's scooping interrogations.

She nodded, "Right, so, what do plan to do today?" she asked, grinning once more, with an eyebrow stretched half-way up her forehead,

Arthur choked on his first mouthful of Hot Chocolate, and Merlin looked at her blankly, not quite understanding. His mind whirred slowly with lack of interest _in anything. _"We hadn't really thought that far ahead, maybe we could watch a film?" he gazed up at Arthur under barely-open eyelids,

"Yes, sounds good," he smiled in return, although the idea wasn't too enticing, but the thought of himself and Merlin snuggling up on a sofa swung it for him. "We can look in the DVD rack when we go downstairs," stating the obvious seemed to be the best way to go in the circumstances; conversation was too awkward to put forward anything other than innate fact.

"I like..." Merlin started, scrunching his mouth to one side in a look of delectable cuteness, "Adventure, Comedy, Romance..."

"I bet you do," Morgana laughed, finding humour where there should have been none,

Merlin responded with a _very_ sarcastic mumble of agreement, "Oh... And _no_ Horror!" he turned to Arthur and wagged a reproving finger. But Arthur poked out a quick-as-lightning tongue and licked it, leaving Merlin feeling _very _embarrassed. _In front of Morgana_. But the dark-haired girl had merely collapsed into another fit of hysterical laughter.

"What's going on?" Uther asked, standing, hands-on-hips, beside the now open door.

"Father." Arthur acknowledged, wondering how long he had been there.

"I want you downstairs, _the three of you_, where I can see you. We need to talk,"

With little hesitation the three leapt to their feet, heads spinning and vision disfiguring, and practically ran downstairs and into the kitchen.

"Now, Merlin, I want to make a few things clear." He stood in front of the three of them, taking on his role as a headmaster, a commanding glare focused, in turn, on each of them, "I have thought about this, last night, and drawn some conclusions which I intend to use to my son's eventual advantage," And from his words, Merlin's stomach churned as he remembered the inadequacy he'd recently forgotten, cringing as his eyes wandered up to Arthur's chiselled, perfected face. Sharp, the slicing voice dragged his attention back down, "One. From now on, you will be sleeping in the _spare_ bedroom," he counted one on his fingers, "if I have to lock you in, _I will_. Two. At any point, if you wish to do anything, such as read, watch television or so much as go for a walk with him, you much seek my permission." Uther had asked for the three of them, but it was becoming clearer and clearer that this was just aimed at Merlin, "And three. You are out of this house by next Thursday, that gives you, including today, five days to either sort out any quarrels you appear to have at home, or find somewhere else to stay." and with that he left. Shoes clacked ominously on the black slate.

Uther had decided, and that was final. He wanted Arthur's temporary lapse to be over, despite the hypocrisy he knew he was committing, and the way he thought most efficient, would be to deny what Arthur wanted most, until (like he once had) he would give up. One thing that Uther hadn't counted on was that Arthur was not like his father. Yes, he was stubborn, but he knew what he wanted, or more, what he loved, and had decided the minute he's laid eyes on Merlin that he would _not_ live without it. Where Uther had given this up, '_seen sense_' in his own words, Arthur never would, because he felt there was nothing else that would ever compare to Merlin. Arthur was, in fewer words, _better _than his father.

But Uther would never accept the term. Nor even think it.

Merlin's mouth hung open, in awe of the conditions that had just been thrust upon him and the bloody sensibility that told him the only option was to obey. _Permission_. He was treating Arthur like his _property_! He looked up at the Headmasters son, hoping to see enough fire for any hope of rebellion. On seeing nothing but the nonexistent shock that was in his eyes, he realised. This prospect of staying, and living, with Arthur was just a dream. A cruelly given and cruelly snatched away dream. Arthur had known something like this would happen, he'd known that his father's momentary silence had been the calm before a storm. Only _this_ storm was... _Well, words were too small..._

―

"Father, Merlin and I would like to watch a film together," Arthur said, trying desperately to cling to that last remaining shred of dignity his father had left him with. _He was not a child_. And he was not his fathers. He fists clenched by his sides and his mind wild with fury, he was, once again, overwhelmed by the prospect of murder. Lashing out seemed to be the only part of the equation that mattered, the trauma, charge and possible imprisonment was very close to being overlooked. With his father out of the picture, there was nothing but Gaius between him and Merlin. And Gaius, well, he could get stuffed. Merlin could stay here. But the careful touch Merlin put on the small of Arthur's back brought him back to reality. _He must stop being selfish._

"What are you going to watch?" he looked enquiringly up from his book, assuming the worst. And, knowing his father too well, Arthur delivered.

"Brokeback Mountain,"

If this were a time for humour, Arthur would have collapsed with what he regarded as 'his own comedic brilliance' (even Merlin stifled a snigger), but as it were, the comment sounded like nothing but a snide remark. But Uther set this aside, seizing the opportunity to establish some control, and fighting back the resident anger and hatred he felt towards his only son, like an encaged bull, he replied, "Fine, if that's what you want to watch, that's what we will watch,"

"_We_?" Arthur retorted, staggered by the cards his father had just thrown confidently onto the table,

"Yes, I will watch it with you,"

"Father, this is ridiculous, you can't do that!" he yelled, but his father was already ushering them into the lounge, "Stop it! Get off! _Don't_ touch him! You're such a control fre-!"

"Come on now, Arthur. I thought you _wanted_ to watch the film,"

"I've changed my mind,"

"Ah, well, maybe I could walk down to the river with the two of you, or we could go bowling, or maybe to the cinema?"

Arthur grunted, not knowing which choice was the wisest. In the end, though, he said nothing. Letting his father put the DVD into the machine.

―

Neither Merlin nor Arthur was watching the film. Eyes and ears, not facing, but tuned onto the stern figure sat on the adjacent sofa. Like daggers that had been sharpened thrice and then once more, he drew undivided fear-filled attention. Merlin sat self-consciously at one end of the sofa, and Arthur slumped, utterly frustrated, at the other, _why wasn't he allowed to so much as lay a finger on his boyfriends _arm _when his father was around?_ Surely that wasn't right.

Part of Merlin's brain was still confused by the fact that Arthur/Uther even had '_Brokeback Mountain' _on DVD.

He could safely say that that had caught him by surprise.

―

They had tottered (for lack of a word that truly resembles their depression) around the house aimlessly for the rest of the day, neither finding any interest in anything, what with Uther breathing down their necks. In fact, they'd purposefully done as little as possible, Arthur reading one book, whilst Merlin pretended to read another. But finally, at half-eleven Uther had chosen to go to bed. His estranged face and drooping eyelids had given away the fact that today's scrutiny had worn him out. At first, Arthur had thought '_Yeah, sure, just going to find a different vantage point from which to spy on us'_, but after hearing nothing from his father when he placed a kiss on Merlin's cheek, before he wandered off to boil the kettle, he gratefully resigned himself to the fact that his father was _tired_ of snooping.

The kettle had not been for a cup of tea, it had been for a hot water bottle. Not that Merlin knew it.

_A Plan._ His father's terms he knew were not to be reckoned with, so he would make Merlin as comfortable as possible. Admittedly, the thought of a hot water bottle _had _stemmed from Arthur's certainty that Merlin would need something to cuddle, even though _he_ was not available, but the thought was selfless enough _for Arthur_.

He poured the hot liquid inside the pink rubber bottle, and then shoved it back into it's dishevelled dog costume. Then made his way back to the lounge.

"Merlin," he said, and the boy rose to his feet. Arthur hadn't heard the authority in his voice, but Merlin had, thrown to his feet by the fear that Uther was up again. "This is for you, so you... So, y'know," he stumbled, having made his voice considerably softer,

"So that I have something to cuddle?" Merlin offered, and for the first time in over twenty-four hours, graced the room with his boyish grin again. Not just the bland smile he'd forgotten to inject with his personality, he'd been using earlier. Heart-warmed, Arthur handed the pooch over.

"Yeah, something like that," he scratched his head, embarrassed.

Merlin kissed him on the cheek, lingering as long as his nerves would allow him, before making his way up to the spare bedroom. He wouldn't try Uther if he could help it.

The emotionally confused blond could do nothing but stare after him, sighing with the incompleteness that today had been delivered with.

There were so many ways he knew he could be spending these few sacred moments alone with Merlin, but if Merlin wanted to sleep. Merlin would sleep.

And he would close his eyes and try to. No muscle in his body, he knew, would be capable of stemming the tears that he'd cry. How his father had stolen something that could have turned out so perfect, even though it originated from something so awful. And now Merlin probably felt more alone, more cut-off than he would have if Arthur had done nothing to try to help him.

Merlin, however, was Merlin. And Arthur knew he would only remember the goodness that was behind the gesture, and not the mess it made.

He wondered if Merlin would cry tonight. Or if he would be crying alone.

_**I know I need to lighten these things up.**_

_**I'm just one of those people...**_


	16. Chapter 16

_**Okay, so this chapter is a little bit of nothing, but writer's block will allow me nothing else.**_

_**(Oh, and Becky, don't worry... (haha!)) **_

Chapter Sixteen

Beside his head, the clock continued to tick. Every passing second, a second wasted. Waiting for the alarm to go off, he knew was _another_ waste of time. _He hadn't even set it_. But he felt he needed some sort of wake-up call to spur his mind into doing something that he really just couldn't help but think about. In fact, he was thinking of nothing else.

"Merlin," He peered around the door, still not entirely conscious of where his feet had lead him, and why he was there. But the person he saw snuggled under the duvet cover, clutching a hot water bottle between his knees and his chest, was the only confirmation that he needed. This was the only reason he would ever disobey his father's orders, the tingling sensation in the pit of his stomach whenever he saw that face, and the burning need that followed simultaneously. _What else?_

There was no answer through the seemingly foggy dark. His voice hanging, like when you can _just_ hear someone breathe in, but then miss the exhale, and until you _hear_ them exhale, you can't quite concentrate on anything else. _That_ was how Arthur felt.

"Merlin!" he hissed, creeping over to the bed like a pantomime dame and perching carefully on the side. He didn't know why he was being careful not to depress the mattress, he _wanted_ to wake him up, after all.

Merlin shuffled under the cover and moaned slightly, but not enough for Arthur to feel guilty about disturbing him. Instead, he ran a finger along the sleeping boy's cheekbone, and an eyelid flickered open at the delicate touch. "Arthur?" he murmured, "Arthur!" In one swift movement, Merlin was sat up, closed eyes now wide open, "What are you doing?!" he quietly yelled (if that were possible), "Can you imagine what would happen if your father woke up?"

"Yes, but to be honest, I've lost the ability to care," he snorted, part of him angry that his father was still the focal point of the conversation, even after Arthur's blinding gesture of affection (but that _was_ from Arthur's point of view). Surely the fact that Arthur was risking life and limb to see him should be the main subject of Merlin's ramblings, but then, _he was risking Merlin's life and limb as well, that might be a bit selfish... _"I don't want to have to think about _him_. We shouldn't actually _have_ to. Do you _really _ want my father to be... To be _everywhere_?" he waited, to leave time for the question to take a dramatic hold, "Because talking about him all the time will have that effect!"

"No. I don't think either of us wants that." he frowned, "And plus, we're arguing again," Merlin's features softened as he lifted up the duvet to let Arthur crawl in beside him, welcoming the warmth that the hot water bottle had long lost. Above anything, he would hold Arthur, he would volunteer to be the victim of Uther's wrath before he gave up. He gripped Arthur's hand beside him, pulling it onto his stomach. In his own way, keeping him closer. But Arthur had already tilted Merlin's face to kiss him. He wasn't sure why he felt he needed to, but this time they'd stolen, from behind Uther's naive and unperceptive back, would only last so long. He had nothing to say, so what else would his brain realistically suggest? To sit in silence and spend the wasted time how he would have, had he stayed in his own bed? No, any time spent with Merlin, was not, in Arthur's opinion, time wasted at all. Even silence with Merlin, _still_ silence, was still time he'd would have chosen to spend nowhere else.

But Merlin pulled away before Arthur's brain had had the chance to properly switch off. "Arthur?"

"Yes?" he replied warily, knowing full-well that this was not going to be an ordinary question,

"Can you sing?"

"What?" _Confusing_, he thought he'd heard the question wrong,

"Well _can you_?"

"Can I what?"

"Can you sing?" Merlin repeated, his brows furrowing, _the query seemed simple enough to him_.

"Urm... That's a strange question,"

"Well, I just realised how little I really know about you, I mean, it's all very well claiming that I _love_ you." he started, hiding the butterflies in his stomach as he said the latter, "But I don't really know all the _little_ details," he imitated a very small gap with his finger and thumb then sat back, watching, with pleasure, the confused effect this was having on Arthur, "_So_... Can you sing?"

Arthur hesitated, raising an eyebrow. His lips curled into a surreptitious smile. The easy answer would have been 'No,' but he was going to ensure he got more out of this than Merlin had intended. Any excuse to wind him up, anyway. Grinning, he promptly opened his mouth and began a horrendous_, and rather loud, _rendition of 'Livin' on a Prayer' by Bon Jovi, in response to which Merlin was quick to slap his hand over Arthur's mouth. Not just because it was awful, but because Uther was down the corridor.

"Shut up!"

"Well, you asked,"

"I wish I hadn't," Merlin giggled, and Arthur found himself admiring the girlish ring.

"What about you?"

"Hmm?" Merlin's mind hadn't been concentrating on what Arthur's question, far too preoccupied with the breaking tuneless voice that was still on play-back in his ears.

"Can _you_ sing?"

"Of course not." he laughed, as if the mere suggestion had been outrageous,

"Let me hear,"

"No, don't be stupid, Arthur,"

"I'm not. I want to make my own judgement," he leant forwards and kissed a reddening nose,

"Not a chance," he smiled, flushing uncontrollably, swatting Arthur playfully around the face, forcing him back to where he had been sat. Arthur, once again, was enthralled by the blush's adorability.

"Please," he begged, kissing Merlin on the lips this time, hoping that bribery might swing it,

"No." he repeated, he wasn't going to budge on this one,

"Yes."

"_No._" Merlin closed his eyes, so Arthur's intense blue stare couldn't shift his self-control, _and falter his instinct to preserve his dignity_.

Arthur frowned, then slumped back against the head-board. _It was no use_. "You can be as stubborn as _me_ sometimes, you know,"

"_Any _sort of comparison to you is a compliment," he replied, and mimicked how Arthur had kissed him on the nose, but Arthur didn't blush. Merely seized the opportunity to kiss Merlin properly.

―

Arthur looked over at the luminous clock on the bedside table, _3:47_. Beneath his chin, laying soundly across his chest, he took a prolonged look at the sleeping Merlin. He wanted to stay there, if not for selfish reasons, so he didn't have to risk waking Merlin up to leave, but if his father found them in the morning. Well, 'all hell would break loose' seemed too mild a turn of phrase.

He gently shrugged Merlin's head back onto his pillow and made his way towards the door. A subconscious "Arthur..." momentarily made him turn back, but it was just Merlin dreaming.

The next morning he woke in his own bed, under his own covers, soaked in his own tears... _Night-time always made people overly emotional._

―

Arthur met Merlin and two bowls of dry cereal at the breakfast table. The look in Merlin's eyes told him something was bothering him, and no one would have needed two guesses to deduce what that _thing_ was. "Arthur?"

_'Here we go..._' "Yes, Merlin,"

"How long do you think your father can keep this up?" The dark-haired boy twiddled his spoon in the Rice Krispies subconsciously, his mind was not on food, but consumed by the immediate problem.

"We've been through this," Arthur replied curtly, that familiar rage bubbling up inside him as the conversation once again returned to his father,

"Yes... I mean, No," he shook his head, looking up at Arthur with a look of sheer desperation in his eyes. He needed this sorted. Merlin was the type of person who needed the facts spelled out to him before he could feel entirely comfortable. Until everything was understood, he wouldn't be able to help but feel uneasy. And Arthur's fathers attitude was eating away at him like he was supposed to be eating his cereal, "We _haven't_ been through this, well, not enough times that I feel there's hope of it going away,"

Arthur picked up the milk carton and began pouring before he answered, "Look." he splayed his free palm face up on the kitchen table, as if this were the simplest of problems and Merlin had been blind not to see the answer, "He won't be able to keep it up, because, _A_, he'll wear himself out, and _B_, because of what happened, _or perhaps, what _didn't_ happen_, with Gorlois*," he returned to pouring the milk. Only to cuss at the now over-flowing bowl,

Merlin sniggered,

"Shut up_, Mer_lin,"

"I'm not laughing,"

"Yes, you are," he slammed the near-empty carton back onto the table, shooting splashes of semi-skimmed even further afield, therefore immediately having to shake out his now dripping hands. He shot Merlin an evil glare, holding it for long enough that Merlin would know he was in_ no mood to be trifled with_. Milk was trickling off of the table and onto his trousers, which made him cuss again, and set Merlin off laughing again. Arthur just stood up to glare at him with even wider eyes, lips pursed to show extra displeasure. "Is something _funny_, _Mer_lin?"

He shook his head, spoon-holding hand covering his mouth,

"Are you sure?"

He nodded,

"Come on. You can tell me. What is it?" he was a patronising as humanly possible, the sort of tone a mother wouldn't hesitate to use on her son.

"Nothing..." he spluttered, but the whole scenario was a little too strange for Merlin to merely sit there in contentment,

"No, you _bet_ '_Nothing'_," he snapped, spinning on his heels to go and change his trousers, leaving Merlin to finish his cereal,

Revelling in the knowledge that he _had _seen Arthur smirk as he left the kitchen, Merlin's triumphant grin did not disappear. At least, what_ever_ happened later, today wouldn't have been a complete write-off. Arthur covered in Milk was reason enough to not regret getting up that morning.

_***Gorlois is Morgana's father – in case you didn't know (but, if you did, I don't want you to think that I thought you were stupid, because I don't... it was just in case.)**_

_**Please R&R, it is much appreciated, and if you have any ideas for stuff that could happen before my finale, please tell me. I need all the help I can get right now. Especially some stuff with Nimueh, I have one huge idea but don't really know how to put it into action. But, of course, I'm not going to tell you what the idea **_**is. **


	17. Chapter 17

_**I know you didn't want anything too dramatic, but I just got a wave of ideas before I wrote this. And it won't turn out too dramatic I promise, but I've planned for overall, twenty chapters. Then, I promise, I will stop. **_

_**The new character in this is for Becky, 'cos she wanted me to. Becky, if you've been bothered to read up to this point, firstly, well done, and secondly, I'm sorry for making him sound stupid and annoying and creepy. But I think he is a little bit...**_

_**So, enjoy... or at least try to...**_

Chapter Seventeen

It was now Arthur finding tedium in school, the people and the lessons. His absent concentration only returning for a split second as the Design and Technology teacher read out his mark for the recent 'Printing Processes' assessment (although, 'examination' seemed a better word).

C...

Well, it was a pass...

He thought about what Merlin would have got. Probably an A*, (_and that would have been the case even though he didn't take this class)_. However, frustration was not something Arthur found himself capable of feeling, right at that moment. Perhaps it was that intense, and somewhat creepy, gaze that was falling on the side of face from the direction of the Technician (essentially, a university loan). Or maybe it was the steady rumbling of his stomach because he'd skipped breakfast. _Merlin hadn't skipped breakfast._ Oh no, he'd wolfed down half the kitchen. Uther had asked why all of the cereal had vanished, so, Arthur'd told him he'd got peckish in the night. He wasn't to know, although, the excuse had been pretty lame. And Merlin was in the clear. Can you imagine how Uther would have reacted? Not that having to buy a few more boxes of Rice Krispies than usual would really break the Pendragon's bank, for Uther, however, it would have been the principal.

"Arthur, I need your help,"

He didn't register the small, childlike voice for a moment, as if it was too shrill for human ears.

"Arthur?" Sophia repeated, growing rapidly impatient. If Sophia didn't get what she wanted, when she wanted it... Well... She might get angry and try to sell their soul...

"Oh, urm, sorry, what can I help you with?" he apparently 'snapped' into action, looking down at her work and shuffling through the papers she'd just dumped in front of him. He found no interest in any of the sketchy drawings, the scratchy colouring and the scrawly notes. He didn't really notice anything on the page, once again, his mind was with his father. He was fed up with how often this was happening to him. His inability to concentrate because his mind was filled by betrayal, anger, hatred and frustration. Wishing he could claw it out of his own brain was no good, because when he imagined anything other than his plagued head, it only got worse. Like maggots festering on the brink of his tear ducts, he saw nothing else, and could concentrate on nothing else.

She begun to ramble off... I don't know... Something about... CD holders. She even went as far as to ask to see _Arthur's_ designs. That, of course, was out of the question. But then her tone changed, and that's when Arthur's ears begun to listen, "Uh oh, Donolly alert," she mumbled, although it was more audible that the squeak she usually spoke with,

Donolly, or Mr Downing to those who knew him from a further, and less intrigued, distance, had perched on the side of the table, leaning in, still clutching the pink digital camera he'd been '_investigating_' earlier (he was a bit thick). "Can I help?" Arthur imagined that that was the question he always asked, regardless of the situation.

"Um, yes, I suppose..." Sophia started, feeling immediately uncomfortable under the Acne-ridden, brown-clad technician's strangely gold stare, _which Arthur had found his eyes meeting many times before, (well, in the times that it wasn't checking out Mr Crouch's bum (it did seem to do that a lot))._ "Do you have any ideas as to how I can attach this CD," she held up a blank disc, "to my Information pack?" she didn't look like she cared in the slightest about his response, mostly shell-shocked that he'd even tried to talk to anyone. Usually he just did everything through Mr Crouch, even going as far as to talk to Mr Crouch so that Mr Crouch could then go an talk to a pupil. To say that he kept himself to himself was not strong enough.

The simple boy's eyes lit up instantly, proud that he could actually fish answer out of his tiny, yet overcrowded brain, and Arthur felt a little bit fuzzy at how easy he seemed to be pleased. _But then he opened his mouth to speak again._

Arthur had to cough to keep back the laugh. To say that the boy was _talking_ was a complete overstatement. In fact, to say it was a mumble was only just within the proximity of the truth. All that was distinguishable was "mmmmh, mummlh... CD Spider," which, he supposed, was the important bit.

"Oh... okay..." Sophia replied, looking utterly flabbergasted. "Where can I get some of those?"

"Mmm, my Office,"

She just smiled and obediently followed, although, to Arthur's direct unease, she did wink when she walked away.

Sure, Sophia might be attractive to _other_ blokes, but _not_ to him. And he was sure of it. Her plump features, delicate blue eyes and tinkling girly laugh were sweet enough. But certainly not _attractive_. Only Merlin was attractive to him.

Nevertheless, he had been cheered up. If only at someone else's expense.

As he left the classroom at the end of the lesson, it wasn't Sophia who winked at him. _Arthur began to wonder why_ everyone_ seemed to be gay_. Someone, he guessed, must be running out a plotlines...

―

Mr Downing made an appearance in their Art lesson. _Supposedly_, he'd come into the computer room to upload some photos, probably off of his pink digital camera, but the looks he kept shooting Arthur were telling a different story altogether. Still, he would be leaving at Christmas. Just two months left. However, as if too late, these constant and repetitive glances were getting right up Merlin's nose. "Arthur?"

"Yep," he frowned as Donolly half-grinned at him once more, displaying long, rectangular, and surprisingly straight teeth, after having to steady himself from spinning childishly on his computer chair. The excuse to look away was much welcomed.

"Why does he keep looking at you?"

"I don't want to know,"

"Oh, _really_?" Merlin replied sarcastically, knowing just how much Arthur liked to be reminded of his good looks, "So if he... I don't know... Made an advance, you'd tell him to shove off _before _the compliments?"

"What are you trying to say?"

"Oh, nothing. I'd just give it to the end of the week,"

"Give _what?"_

"His_ advance_, stupid."

Arthur felt sick at the thought. How could a face so adorable, so innocent, be spilling such hideous assumptions. "Don't worry Merlin, that's not going to happen..." he smirked, "because I have the magic phrase, Je ne comprends pas, je suis anglais!" he announced in a giant public-speaker-esque voice.

"Yeah, sure, very good. But there is just one problem," Merlin chuckled. Trust Arthur to be completely off-task.

"Go on,"

"So is he."

"Shut up, it was a joke," he grinned back, "Although, from what I _did_ hear of him talking this morning, he's _certainly_ not English..."

Merlin doubled-over laughing.

―

They left the back gate with the air of people who were above the petty judgements others would make. Because, as far as either of them were concerned, they had _everything_ to deal with right now, so something as small and trivial as other peoples opinions really was not worth the brain power. A disapproving father, a school full of people who seemed to still find the concept inconceivable, Merlin had been kicked out and was soon to be kicked out again, and...

_What was Gaius doing here..?_

The old man was watching them from his car, hands gripped and tensed around the steering wheel as if he were steadying himself after a fall, and his face said the same. He was preparing himself. And Merlin really didn't want to know what for.

He squeezed Arthur's hand, desperately trying to exert some of the suddenly raging fear, but Arthur's confused expression said he hadn't noticed the grey-haired omen yet. Merlin just stood, frozen to the spot as his great uncle walked towards them. Ominous eyebrow famously raised, but instead of being amusing, it was terrifying. It had nearly reached his hairline this time.

"Merlin," he droned, slurring tones panging in Merlin's ears, dreadfully familiar. "How are you?"

"Quit the small talk Gaius, I don't have time for this,"

Gaius bowed his head, how he would if Merlin were a king, showing him the respect he deserved, the respect Arthur knew Gaius owed him.

"I've thought about what I did, and... It seems... That, yes, I was wrong to throw you out," a smile curled the left corner of his lips, "and I would be lying to say that I haven't missed the smash of vases and crash of breaking furniture,"

"I never actually broke that chair," he smiled back, being thrown into a, perhaps, false sense of security, the conversation with his uncle being far too easy,

"I think the missing leg might have rendered it unusable," he laughed, relief bursting into his eyes as he relished the normality.

Arthur's face, however, remained stern. "Merlin, you can't honestly be considering forgiving him. I don't know if you've forgotten, but _he kicked you out!"_ he dropped Merlin's hand, resting his on Merlin's shoulder, seizing the boy's undivided attention. He was hiding the plea that was in his voice. He didn't want Merlin thrown once more into the firing zone, how did he know if Gaius wouldn't snap again? He didn't want Merlin anywhere near a ticking time bomb. But, most of all, and much to his own self-disgust, he just didn't want Merlin to leave. As ridiculously hard as it had been, with Uther breathing down their necks and watching, with suspicious eyes, their every move, he had liked Merlin being there. How he could possibly not, was beyond him. At least, he'd _thought_ the feeling mutual.

He didn't want to have to deal with his father on his own.

"Arthur, it's fine. This is as much my fault as it is Gaius'," Merlin sighed, speaking slowly and unnervingly calmly, unbeknown to the fact that Arthur's stomach was churning more with each passing second, "I kept this from him, and I know I shouldn't have. If it had been me in his position I would have acted the same,"

_That was a lie, "_No, you wouldn't have! There's no way you could do that to your own family! This man," he pointed at Gaius, heated fingertips only millimetres from the old man's face, but Gaius didn't flinch, "does not deserve your sympathy!"

"Arthur, I can't stay with you and your father forever,"

"_Why not?!"_ he yelled, tears forming in his eyes, with the same acidity the he remembered. He wanted to yell, to use brute force if he had to. Merlin needed to understand! He couldn't comprehend this way of thinking, _of forgiving_. "What if I wanted you to stay, would you do it then?!"

"Arthur..."

"No." he cut him off, he couldn't hear it. He'd rather know what he thought to be the truth, having not heard it, than to let those cold, hostile words state it. Why was everyone mocking him? Why did everyone insist on hurting him as much as they possibly could? Merlin, of all people, the one who'd gone to lengths to stop him hurting, only now to inflict it.

But Arthur didn't really know what Merlin had been about to say. The apology, the assurance that he would stay as long as Arthur wanted him, but certainly not forever, would never be heard. Merlin had been about to tell Arthur that it needn't be straight away, that he could stay until Thursday was up, until he would no longer be welcome in his house. But Arthur ruined and denied himself as much to protect his own ears, and, subsequently, mind from insanity.

"You can move back in with your..." he flicked a hand aimlessly in Gaius' direction, and then swallowed a scream._ It was no use_.

"Arthur, what are you saying?" Merlin knew exactly what Arthur meant, what was running through his head. But as far as he was concerned, he'd blown that apology right out of the water. Arthur would have some time on his own whether he liked it or not. Merlin would ensure it, but not condemn it.

Gaius's eyes twitched from side-to-side, taking in the gathering crowd and wondering if this was a good moment to announce he was going home,

Arthur couldn't answer the above question, because he truthfully didn't know.

Gaius took the lead, the thick and heavy tension was becoming too dense for his tired eyes to see through, "Merlin, I will come around later to pick you up,"

"I can come with you now, if you want," he snarled through gritted teeth, feeling the same confusion that Arthur was, but from the opposite perspective. His eyes never broke the icy contact,

Arthur heart nearly fell apart within that speech. As short as it was, it was heart-wrenching. Merlin didn't understand how much he needed him, and it was clear he didn't feel the same.

"No, you'll need time to pack,"

At the back of the crowd, Nimueh was watching. Bright, wide blue eyes taking in everything there was to see, because after everything that had happened, she wanted to ensure that something _else_ surely would. To inject their lives with hell would be her upper-most motive, but she would do it subtly. Twisting the knife, hopefully, while everyone's back was turned. That way, she could ensure that Uther paid. What he had done to her, she couldn't speak. But it was there, she would destroy Uther through his son... _Through her brother._

―

Stony silence clasped their breathing, as irregular as it already was. Both boys tried to hide their breaking sobs, but both could hear each others. Like breaking through a door from the cold outside after running, into the heat of a fire-lit room, there vision was not their own. Everything looked smaller, less how-it-should. As if they were encased in their own minds, and anything outside their heads was unreal. The only reality was the silence.

The car pulled up outside the Pendragon's house, a house that Merlin one day would like to think of as at least a _second_ home. A place where he wouldn't have to be careful and hide and be forced to _sleep in a separate bedroom_. That time was not now, not enough had happened for that freedom and acceptance to be before or even on the horizon. He hoped Arthur understood why he was moving back. It was because the closeness, he would spend most of his time in, was too much, too soon. Uther needed time. As Gaius did. Merlin needed time. And, although Arthur didn't realise it yet, he did too. To move too fast would be a mistake, and it could be detrimental. He needed space to begin with. Arthur would _have_ to thank him for it later. _Wouldn't he?_

But even Merlin could not be sure.

_**Please Review, I really appreciate it.**_


	18. Chapter 18

_**Okay, kids, **_

_**This chapter sort of just ties a few things up, and yes, quite a bit happens in it (if you compare it to the other chapters I've done). So I hope you enjoy it, as always... and PLEASE review! If possible, and you might just think I'm being... well... I don't know... but could you tell me which chapters you prefer so I know which moods work and things. That way, for my next one I can write it so you enjoy it more. And also maybe if my descriptions are a bit weird.**_

_**Thanks!**_

Chapter Eighteen

She'd spent the day stalking him, waiting for the right moment to spring, _like a coiled viper_, and attack. Casually walking along the same paths, so as not to arouse suspicion, and leaving classes early (not that the teacher's had the time, nor effort to care) so as to meet and follow him further.

'_This is it'_ she kept telling herself, teasing her mind with the prospect of the pain she could inevitably cause. _'This was the day that Uther Pendragon would pay for what he did to me_'.

She tiptoed around the corner of the Physics block, carefully ensuring that no one was within ear shot. She couldn't risk involvement by others of any kind; they would surely ask too many questions. "Arthur!" she called, heightening her voice to the epitome of seductiveness, not that she hoped a response that was in any way similar from her brother. (_Nimueh was a lot of things, but she was not pro-incest)._

He didn't respond at first, but if there was one thing she'd noticed about Arthur, it was that his mind was always elsewhere, so therefore, never heard someone speak the first time.

"Arthur!" she repeated, more urgent this time. Hiding a tinkering laugh that threatened to rise in her throat, the insanity and zeal driving her crazy. "Arthur!" she finally snapped, grabbing the blonde's attention how she would grab a curtain and pour in the light, careless but with certain intent.

"Nimueh," he acknowledged, hoping the confusion in his voice would act as a question. He had no desire to be drawn into conversation; he'd had enough of words and the inconsiderate way they said, described and destroyed things.

"I hoped I'd get to speak to you," she said, keeping Arthur oblivious to the sly undertone, not that he would have noticed of his own accord,

"Oh, yeah, why's that?" out of courtesy, he replied, not that he was bothered about receiving an answer, his glance to the left said as much. Nimueh could have burst into dust (to quote Flight of The Conchords) there and then and he wouldn't have cared.

"I know you're upset, _and rightly so_, he shouldn't have hurt you like that,"

He rolled his eyes. Just another Sophia, just another Donolly. Although, something in that sentence had made him angry, _she hadn't used his name, just 'he_', his name was 'M...'. He couldn't even say it. Sighing, he continued the masquerade of minor interest, "Get to the point, Nimueh, I really don't have time for this,"

"I spoke to him," she lied, bending the edges of her lips downwards, to counteract the smile. "To Merlin,"

Arthur was listening,

"He told me why he wanted to leave,"

Arthur didn't know if he wanted to hear this. But his heart was beating louder than he'd heard it before, trying to dig its way out of his chest, perhaps to hear for itself. His feet had rooted themselves to the ground, he was going nowhere. By not speaking in return, he hoped to not appear too eager to hear Merlin's pain. After all, Merlin's pain was the thing he despised most about himself. But he knew he desperately wanted the truth. And if that came through Nimueh, it came through Nimueh...

"He said he couldn't bear what was happening with your father." she let the words sink in, watching, with rash eyes, how Arthur's nose crinkled at the mention of his father, "he will kill me for talking to you about this, so... Best keep it quiet, hey?" she moved so her face was no more than a foot from Arthur's, letting the blinding blue of her eyes captivate his, and sure enough, Arthur _had_ underestimated their power.

Arthur nodded.

"He said," she hid a smirk, "that you weren't worth the hassle,"

"What?" he ran a hand through his hair. This wasn't the sort of thing Merlin would say. (Merlin _would _not use the word 'hassle' for a start) He kept his pain inwards, he was sure he wouldn't blab about this to anyone, least not_ Nimueh._ Arthur'd never seen him speak to her before. But then, if this were true, what Nimueh was telling him, _and maybe there were other things that he didn't know_. "Are you sure?" he thought about singing, on Saturday night. Merlin had not acted in the way Nimueh said. He'd seemed happy, content, willing to stick it out. _And now she told him this?_

"As sure that I heard his voice," she looked up at him solemnly, she was telling him the truth. She had not heard his voice, nor had she heard him say any of this. Technically, she had not just lied. "He said he wanted an outside voice. Then, that if losing you was what it took to lose your father, then he would lose you without so much as a second thought,"

"That's not true," he knew enough of Merlin to know that he didn't think like that. He knew how he had risked his relationship with his mother, with Gaius, for them. Merlin wouldn't have lied through all of that. So why did Nimueh poison him with ill-facts now? Why would she? "He could have lost everything for us, he risked it all! Why would he do that?!" he was practically yelling, but a softness in his voice remained, a softness that only existed because Merlin was the topic of conversation.

Nimueh leant in, her mouth mere millimetres from his ear. He closed his eyes, expecting the scorpions of distrust he would hear. And she whispered. "_The Thrill..._"

His eyes were wide within the instant, meeting the eyes of a boy. Meeting _Merlin's_ eyes. He heard the words over in his head, hearing the truth that Nimueh fed him, _then_ seeing the boy. She didn't talk of Merlin, he knew that now. Her twisted games were toying with his mind, trying to make him think differently. Trying to make him hate his father for splitting them up, trying to make him hate Merlin for using him, and trying to make him hate himself (as if she needed to try, right now he hated no one more). He pulled the girl away from him, grabbing both of her shoulders with unnecessary force. "Nimueh..." he said, loud enough for the dark-haired onlooker to hear. Sucking air through gritted teeth, he prepared himself.

He couldn't help but notice how terrified she looked as his fist drew near and collided with her cheekbone. Blood spurted from the gash across her face, and trickled out of his knuckles. Noting how hard and unnatural it had felt against his fist, he smiled inwardly at the release he felt from it. However, enraged, furious and sickened, he ran in the opposite direction to the slight, now shocked, scared, and anxious, boy. He didn't want to be near any of them. Nimueh's words still plagued his mental image of Merlin, as if some of it, part of him, believed.

As if the tiny, small, delicate Merlin that watched in horror, confusion and yearning, was capable of hurting someone.

―

He passed the computer room at twenty-five minutes past twelve. Lunch break. Still weary, red-eyed from crying, and with no coherent thought running through his muffled head. Until now, and even then it was unrepeatable.

"Thanks,"

Arthur's head snapped around at the sound of Merlin's voice.

Merlin took a sip of the hot steaming liquid in the mug, trying not to look repulsed by the strange bits of leaves that had escaped the teabag. Then, "Urgh," he wiped his tongue, unable to maintain the politeness, "I can't believe you let me put that in my mouth!" he yelled. Donolly just laughed.

_Hang on a second..._ Arthur double-checked,_ Donolly!? What the flip was he doing there?!_

_With Merlin, no less!_

For a moment he imagined himself storming into the computer room, smacking, or rather_ punching_,the weird technician around the face and sweeping Merlin into his arms as if he was weightless. Then they could run away together. Away from Gaius and Uther and Nimueh and Donolly, and everyone else they could do without. They could have gone anywhere, and anywhere would have been better than here. _Anywhere_ wouldn't be out to get them. But that perfect vision was scooped from his mind when some gold eyes contacted with his. It wouldn't be so bad if they hadn't _lit up_ as they did so. "Arthur!" he smiled, slurring as he usually did, before saying something along the lines of, "...have one as well..."

Arthur stood still, eyes now fixed with Merlin's, who looked petrified. Anger and guilt flared in his chest, he didn't want to be the reason Merlin was scared, or the reason he was upset or the reason he was anything but happy. He just wanted Merlin to be happy, _but in the most selfish way _possible. But, an arm around his shoulders drew him back to the situation at hand, and the mug that was being thrust into his palm used searing pain to keep him there. He didn't say thanks, or even acknowledge that there was anyone else in the room. Him and Merlin. Just _Arthur _and _Merlin_.

It could have been hours, for all they knew. It was stupid how both had so much to say, but felt no compulsion to say it. The silence was the only thing that had any hope of healing wounds. Letting themselves and each other become accustomed to their presence, the feeling that fizzed in the pit of their stomachs as the eyes continued to stare back. And the space between them that, from their detached hallucination, looked like miles.

Not one considered that Donolly was still watching Arthur, a somewhat hopeful, dreamy gaze falling on him with little shame. "Arthur," he said again,

No answer.

"Arthur, I was wondering," how strange that now should be the time when his words became coherent, "if you wanted to get a coffee after school,"

_The stupid man!_ Couldn't he see that these two boys were on the verge of patching up their relationship, or was he blind as well as Dum? _Or didn't he care_? The ignorance that it had taken for those words to come out of Mr Downing's mouth was astounding; the very prospect brought Arthur incredibly close to the brink of murder.

Merlin blinked, taking some invisible, and quickly drowned, pride in the fact that he had been right about Donolly (he _had_ made an advance before the week was up), before setting down his cup, picking up his bags and leaving.

Arthur just stared into the now blank and empty space where Merlin had just a second ago been standing, left heavy-headed with longing.

He followed shortly after Merlin. But not in the same direction.

―

The receiver clicked,

"Hello?"

"Gwen,"

"Yes, who is this?"

"It's Arthur,"

"Oh," she paused, looking up from her lunch, "why are you calling me? I can see you across the dining hall,"

"Can I talk to you about..." he gulped, "about Merlin?"

"Um... Yes, sure. But why can't you come and speak to me over here?"

"He might get suspicious,"

"Is that really it? Or is it just that Merlin usually sits next to me, and you can't bring yourself to sit in his seat?"

He didn't answer,

Sighing, she gave in, "Okay, what do you want to say?"

"Has he spoken about me?"

"He's said practically nothing at all... but, "she paused again, watching the blond bow his head in sadness. _He'd been hoping to hear words of forgiveness... But then, he didn't really want to hear them from Gwen's mouth. But he saw no other way. _It killed Gwen just as much as it killed Merlin to see him like that, but for different reasons, "I suppose, every time he _has_ spoken, it has been about you, yes."

He looked up at her again, and she could see his small, but definitely real smile, "anything in particular?"

"He misses you, Arthur,"

Arthur hung up.

―

He stumbled up the steps, unaware of the fact his brain had actually told his feet to move. He was just doing what he must. P.E. Required a kit. He stretched out a hand towards the cloakroom door handle, readying himself for the traumas that came with football. Lung's convulsing, he had to catch his breath for a moment as his ears tuned in to a frequency he could not hope to forget.

He didn't know _what _to think at first. The singing. Usually, he would have thought it an expression of joy, but the sobs, that carefully interrupted it, told him otherwise. _Merlin was singing_. He recognised the slightly thick, deep tones as if they were his own voice. _Merlin, _without a doubt. From their recent conversation, he'd resigned himself to the idea that he would never hear Merlin sing, no matter how many time his heart would flip when he thought about it. Or, if he did hear it, it would have been a funny, light-hearted occasion. Not_ this_. But his heart was doing a mutant and unstable cross between somersaults and bleeding out.

Merlin was singing because he was upset. A perfect rendition of 'I'm Yours' by The Script. 'Perfect' meaning that he hit the notes as if they came naturally to him, like words to a wordsmith, and magic to a Warlock. It was the sort of gentle song you'd like to listen to before you sleep. Delicate, quiet, somewhat refreshing, as if cleaning your ears of the foul voices of others, and infinitely pleasing. But Arthur found it impossible to be pleased, under the circumstances, considering _why_ Merlin was singing in the first place.

His hand rested on the doorknob, a part of him wanting to walk in and sweep him off his feet, _again_, how he should have done earlier. Part of him knew/assumed the door would be locked. There was no point in even trying. He didn't have the guts to go in, anyway, so thinking about it would do nothing. _He just wanted to listen_. And appreciate.

At least, that was the selfish part of him.

The less selfish part of him was still with the idea of going in, telling Merlin everything was all right, and that he hadn't meant to hurt him, nor would he need to hurt again. Knowing every second Merlin spent alone was another second spent in pain, was nigh on unbearable for Arthur. But, as he'd already acknowledged, he was just _too_ selfish. Or too much of a coward.

Someone who doesn't have the guts to talk to someone to face to face can be called nothing but a coward, even with the most delicate of subjects. Even when the outcome desired by both was equal. Even when the situation was like this one. But Arthur didn't care if he was coward, his mind still twisting itself in the idea that a coward would never break someone's heart. So why had he?

He pressed his full weight against the door, never turning the handle so he could hear the click of a lock and feel the true force of Merlin's aching eyes on his, only letting his whole body sink to the floor. Letting the cold of the concrete outside slabs seep through his trousers and scratch like splinters against his knees. _He deserved every spine._ His head remained resting on the door, pressing an ear to the green paint, so he could listen harder. So he could realise how sitting there doing nothing was the wrong decision. But he already knew that. And he already knew why he was (Or rather, '_wasn't_') doing it. _Coward_.

Merlin was supposed to be the one person he should never be afraid to talk to, never be afraid to show his emotions to. So why was he cowering by a door, listening to him singing, and letting each note shred each of their hearts a little further? Because he couldn't bring himself to do anything else.

"Just go in, Arthur."

He spun his head so he could see the familiar face standing over him. But had to double-take when he saw who it was. _Donolly. _"What?" he whispered, his voice smothered by strangled tears,

"Just go in,"

I'd just like to point out, that in any other situation, Arthur would have marvelled at how coherent Mr Downing's words were, and how he always chose to pull that out of the bag in the most poignant of times. But, as it was, he was deciding whether or not to listen to the creep. So Arthur got to his feet.

"Look," he walked casually closer to the corner Arthur had just backed into, "it would never have worked between us, your boyfriend's just _too_ adorable, there's no way I could have resisted him" he grinned, and his eyes twitched as if he was trying to wink. Arthur had to restrain himself from punching him for being so arrogant. "And plus, I've set my sights on someone else, now,"

Arthur raised an eyebrow, concerned that Merlin might be in mind, "Who?"

"...Mr Crouch." He sounded so definite.

"...Oh..."

Mr Downing smirked gormlessly once more and slouched off, dragging his feet along behind him.

Arthur turned back to face the door, the singing had quietened; _maybe he'd heard the talking_. He squared up to the solid green frame before slowly turning the handle. Donolly was right after all, as much as it pained Arthur to admit it, sitting outside the door feeling sorry for himself was not going to sort anything out. _Blimey, Donolly was less of a coward than he was_! That didn't make him feel good about himself, but, I suppose, may have given him his moment of humility.

The force he applied to the doorknob was highly unnecessary, falling forwards, after he _did _hear the clunk of an opening lock. His feet, underneath him, managed to fumble around quickly enough to find the floor, keeping him from _total_ embarrassment, but the romantic, hero-esque mood he'd intended was ruined.

The singing had stopped and been instantly replaced by breathy laughter. But thankfully, it was _Merlin's_ breathy laughter.

―

"I thought you didn't sing?" Arthur said, running flushed fingers through his hair as he steadied himself. Merlin immediately clasped his hand tight over his mouth. _Arthur had heard, how embarrassing!_ All the anger he'd been _supposedly _feeling was as non-existent as it always had been, _he just wanted Arthur back_.

"Oh, Arthur, don't tell anyone, please!" he ran up to him, gripping him loosely by the collar. Unintentionally bringing himself insatiably close to Arthur's face, and his lips. So close, in fact, that all rational thought was quickly escaping him. He'd missed the affect Arthur had on him.

"Tell anyone what?" Arthur replied slyly and smiled, watching the heat creep up Merlin's face with more than a hint of adoration. He'd missed that colour.

There was silence for longer than either of them knew. Neither wanting to break eye contact and neither wanting to talk. The silence was enough to tell each other everything, screaming apology, and regret, and remorse, and most of all, the need for things to be righted.

Arthur was the first to make a move, as he always was, kissing Merlin lightly on the lips as if he were still nervous.

Not that Merlin was having any of Arthur's niceties, crushing their heads together in a fit of, what could only be described as, _relief..._

_**Okay, so, after that, only two more chapters to go... I think... might be three, depends... probably two though.**_


	19. Chapter 19

**_Thank you again for the reviews (I wanted to thank 'Amy' but she doesn't have an account so I couldn't, so if you're reading this, thanks for the lovely review). Only two chapters to go!_**

**_Oh yes, please read the italics bit slowly, I wrote as if it should be read slowly. Sorry, you don't have to if you don't want to._**

Chapter Nineteen

Arthur banged a fist on the inside of his bedroom door, yelling once more down at his father, "I _told _you, she _provoked _me!"

There was no answer.

Arthur exhaled half-roaring, and kicked at the lower-half of the door, "Why do I still have a stupid lock on my door, anyway?" he muttered, taking a seat at his run-down oak desk.

_If his father wanted to shut him in a prison such as this, there was nothing he could say to change his mind_.

He looked up. And then around at the plain magnolia walls. Merlin's room hadn't been as dismal as this. He'd had posters and photographs on the walls, stationery scattered all over the floor, soft patterned materials that he would recognise instantly, essentially, his bedroom looked like a _bedroom_. _Arthur's looked like a cell_. But it was the act of being confined to that prison-like room that made him notice it. Before, it was just _plain_, a tad boring and maybe a reflection of his father's perfectionist attitude, but now it stunk of his father's irrevocable instinct and obsession that saw that he _had_ to be in control. The blandness was only another way he subtly told Arthur, _he was his property, and what he said, went._

He would much rather be locked in Merlin's bedroom, with or without the said boyfriend.

One of his hands snatched up a pencil from his pencil-pot, gripping it hard enough to turn his knuckles and fingertips an insipid yellow. '_Insipid_' he mentally scoffed. That was a word he'd _like_ to use to describe his father, pasty, insignificant, and infinitely weak. But Uther Pendragon defied that analogy as if his life depended on it. Which, in some ways, Arthur thought it did. To call Uther that would mean he had any ounce of control over what happened in his life, that it really didn't matter what his father thought. But it did matter._ But Arthur was past wanting approval._

The pointed lead touched the first page of the little bottle-green notebook, Arthur had pulled out of drawer (with unreserved force), with the pressure applied by a feather to the ground. But instead of beginning to write, Arthur merely looked at it (or better still, _scowled_). The small, _miniscule_, even, fragments of lead that crumbled off the tip and scattered soundlessly on the paper underneath was, momentarily, fascinating. Inspiration enough to stimulate a wispy picture in his mind of Nimueh's head doing much the same. _Why was it that whenever things patched themselves up, and people began to move on with their lives, something came along and tore them back down again_? He failed to see how this was fair. _Why had Nimueh felt the need to snitch to his father? _Stupid question. She was an evil witch.

Arthur just wanted to be with Merlin. He had made it clear that he would willingly leave his father if it meant he could be with him, _so why did he find himself locked in his room under his father's orders?_ Because he was having _'coward'_ problems again. That, and he was still not entirely sure that Merlin was ready for things to be exactly the same as they had been again. Although, now he thought about it, how things had been before was by no means perfect. The snooping into each other's bedrooms because they'd been forbidden to sleep in the same room, the fact that Merlin had been thrown out in the first place..._ And the way they always seemed to argue._ Arthur wanted nothing less than to argue with Merlin, and he was sure Merlin wasn't exactly keen on arguing _with him_, so, again, begged the question - _Why did they do it?_

―

"Uther," Morgana shut the door of her 'father's' study, taking no pleasure in seeing the smug smile that was spread across his lips. His thoughts, she could imagine, were something along the lines of '_That should teach him a lesson_'.

"Morgana," Uther acknowledged,

She didn't speak at first, wondering how best to phrase the question, "may I ask what Arthur has done?"

"You may," he smiled even further, and it was _not_ the proud, confident smile of a father, it was the cold, hostile smile of a vicious ruler who would stop at nothing to assume power over anyone that stepped within a mile of him.

"Well?" she prompted, when she realised he was waiting for her to ask again. She supposed this was just another way to make it clear that _she did_ as _he said_.

"He has punched a girl," the smile vanished, "the Pendragon's pride themselves in their nobility. What Arthur has done goes against this."

"Don't you think you're being a little too harsh on him? I'm sure he had his reasons,"

Uther leant forwards across his desk; the look in his eyes sent Morgana back a pace. "Are you suggesting I don't know how to look after my own son?"

Morgana faltered, "In a way, yes I am. I don't think you look after him at all. You just punish him, and then punish him again!"

"I treat Arthur how I would treat any boy of his age at my school. If he does well, I praise him. If he does wrong, I punish him!"

"And you think he is _wrong_?"

He didn't reply, for he didn't know the answer,

_Gorlois had stood at the school gates, his near-ebony hair gleaming white in the sunshine (much like his daughter's would). After a considerable while, Uther had come to the conclusion that he'd never seen eyes of the like, he'd searched his girlfriends for a hint of the twinkle, the shine, the intensity. But found only flatness. Igraine never captured him how this boy could. He strode confidently forwards, or, at least, that was the image he presented, inside he was trembling. Being within walking distance of Gorlois would leave him half the man he was before. Now, was no exception. Only this time, he knew how to cope. The night previous had been spent alone, specifically requesting that he have some peace from his girlfriend, pondering the situation and how he could hope to go on without having the boy to himself. Of course, the answer when he awoke that morning was the same as the preconceived answer he'd believed for weeks before. Only now, he had made his decision. He would live without._

_How he would do it, he couldn't comprehend. He hoped blindness and ignorance and denial would see him through. He hoped that Igraine would give him everything he needed to refrain from reverting back to how he was then. He hoped he would never have to regret..._

But Uther Pendragon did nothing _but_ regret from that day forwards. Pleading with himself to find the man, to confess, to leave Igraine. But she had given him a son. Leaving after that _was impossible_. She'd also given him a daughter, as troublesome as that had been, if short-lived. After the son, he couldn't ask for more from her. _And she loved him. That was more that Gorlois did_. And plus, _he loved her_. Just not as much.

He had seen the man again, as promised, and he had been ready to tell him, to succumb to that burning sensation in the pit of his stomach that reproached every time his name was mentioned, every time he walked passed Morgana, every time he looked at her now. But it was on his beloved's deathbed.

_Gorlois was hunched under thin white sheets, his eyes clenched tightly shut. Holding on. Something Uther could only wish he'd had the strength to do. To hold on to the thin shred of hope that he'd held when he was young, when the fight in him hadn't left. Before he gave up. The frail, withering man had opened his eyes only briefly, to confirm whose presence he was graced with. And then his eyes had tensed shut again. The energy he'd once had had evaded him. Seeing him like this had torn at the very essence of the man Uther had turned into being, his heart nearly reverted back to its soft, loving self. But he was too set in his ways, so lost of hope._

_He hadn't spoken, he hadn't smiled, and he hadn't shown any signs that he was anything of the man Uther had watched at the school gates. Because he wasn't. _This was real_, Gorlois dying, holding the hands of his soon-to-be orphaned daughter. That was the fabric of reality, what had become of the person he held dearest, dearer than his own son. Death. That was all that was left of him, and for some reason, Uther had thought that was all he'd ever been. Anything Uther had dreamt of was just that, _a dream_. _

_And then came the ominous, continuous bleep. Death. Signifying that secret that would never be told, at least not to the one who needed to know most. But that had not been him, Uther knew as much. That was not who he loved. That had just been an old man, or more a man of a similar age to him, riddled with disease, withered and morphed so he resembled nothing but illness. _

He could tell himself that. As many times as he felt necessary. But neither denial, nor abstract memory could change how he felt. _His regret._

"No," he said, standing for the first time since she had come into the room, "I don't think he is wrong. I think he is far too _right_,"

Morgana's brow furrowed, the concept that he could _agree _with his son, but _still_ lock him in his room, was _so_ twisted she wondered what thought had brought it about. "Well, let him out then." It seemed logical enough,

"I can't do that,"

"Well why ever not?!" she yelled, throwing an upwards-facing palm in his direction. The answer seemed plain to her.

"Because I don't understand why he can be happy when I never could be!" he screamed in return, his face scrunching up into a vision of pain. And a fist slamming down on the desk.

There was silence. Morgana stared, narrowed eyes piercing like daggers, but Uther never once met them. He merely hid his face in his hands, hiding who he was from her, as he always had.

Now was the time when he should share his secret once more. But just because now was the only moment he had to speak the truth, didn't mean he would take it. As he always had done, suppressing it, as painful as it was, seemed the only way. _It _was_ the only way_.

He stood up and ushered his 'daughter' out of the room. She should have protested, but some niggling feeling that this was beyond the pettiness she had anticipated in her head kept her silent.

―

Arthur stared out of the window, and at the falling blanket of darkness that flew over the horizon. The sky was a gentle pink above the hills, and, yes, he took this to mean that tomorrow would be a good day. Or better than this one. _Better than today. He would love for it to be better than today._ The streets were eerily quiet, but he couldn't remember them _ever_ bustling with people or cars. This was the countryside, for God's sake, the people here were either all over-sixty or as much of a recluse as he was. But he preferred it that way. At least now there wasn't the rumbling of engines, the crying of babies or the singing of children to interrupt his thoughts.

But then, the singing of children was something he never really felt any desire to hear, or the crying of babies for that matter. That, generally speaking, meant he would have _had_ to marry a woman (or _not_ marry her, in most cases). And if he couldn't marry Merlin, he just _wouldn't marry_.

He slapped himself around the forehead for being such a teenage girl. _Marriage_. What next. It was typical of him though, to over analyse things. No. Wait. _That was typical of Merlin._

...

Oh. Well, maybe they were becoming too alike. Or maybe he was beginning to find it hard to see where his subconscious finished and Merlin's started. His stomach flipped at the thought. He really did love the boy. Even though they weren't on the best terms at the moment, he would rather that than the awkward stony silence that had split them for the few days before.

He thought of his father for a second, _and a brief second at that_. Determined not to break his promise, '_where my life is concerned, my father shall not be thought of or regarded_'. End of. Imagining him sat at his desk, solidly believing that he has taught his son a lesson, gave him a strange rush of adrenaline. Because, yes, Uther Pendragon had taught him a lesson - _that he would sit here for a million days, if he had to. Just so he knew he could be with Merlin._

**_Please review, and no prises for guessing what happens in Chapter 20 – the finale. It really is quite obvious when you think about it. _**


	20. Chapter 20

**_I was going to leave it a day or two before I upload this, but I really couldn't help myself. Obvious ending, I know... and expect cheese!_**

**_Thank you to everyone who has been reviewing, I really appreciated it 'cos this was my first fanfic and everything. So thanks. And I really hope this chapter doesn't turn out to be a disappointment._**

**_So here goes... the finale. (Oh, and Merthurtilidie – well done, you pretty much got it spot on)_**

Chapter Twenty

_Clack_.

Arthur's head snapped up from where it had been resting on his desk. He listened for a moment, wondering if the noise had been in his mind... Nothing. He settled down again.

_Clack_.

There it was again. He paused, incredibly still, in case it had been one of the buttons on his shirt against the desk,

_Clack._

He hadn't moved.

_Clack_.

They were getting more frequent, splitting sounds like teeth gritting together, or maybe glasses in a toast... _Or maybe stone against glass..._ He jumped to his feet, rushing over to the window and drawing his curtains with uncontained force. He heaved open the sash window and another stone was thrown, it hit him square in between his eyes, "Aghh!" he yelped, then cussed, "What was that for?!"

"For not listening to me, and for arguing and for not understanding," Merlin laughed, finding the disgruntled Arthur irresistibly adorable.

Arthur laughed for a brief second, but his nose _really did_ hurt. "Can I help you Merlin?" he spoke softly, almost seductively, his head light against the heaviness of the night air, against the heaviness of the situation at hand. He looked down at the boy, taking his time to absorb the image he was presented with. Merlin was wearing at least fifty layers, orange, blue and green shirt collars poking out from underneath his hoodie. He internally laughed, _typical of Merlin to be so over-prepared. _His hair was tousled and several clumps stood up on end, but that only made Arthur want to laugh more. ..._And want to hug him_. But that was different. H_e was a man for god's sake, men don't have the urge to hug things! B_ut this _was _Merlin. how could he possible _not_ want to hug him... I mean... look at him!

"Are you going to come down?"

"I can't,"

"Why not?"

"..." he didn't want to say it, "...I'm locked in my room," he mumbled, ashamed of what he had been reduced to,

Merlin didn't hold back the hysterical laughter, and Arthur cringed at how the delightful ringing sound echoed off the nearby houses. He hoped his father couldn't hear. "Yes," Merlin said, once he calmed down, "I guessed as much,"

"Really,"

"Yeah, your father told me to 'piss off' when I rang the doorbell,"

Arthur wasn't angry, as he usually would have been, but happy, pleased that Merlin hadn't given up,

―

Merlin watched Arthur lean forward across his window-ledge, propping his head up on a clenched fist and letting the moonlight play in his hair. It reminded him of France. And.._. Speaking of France_...

"So, am I just supposed to talk to you like this for the whole night? Because conversation out of a window, I'd assume, would be hard to sustain."

"Oh, I'm sure you'll think of a way to get down," Merlin grinned, winking as he said it. _He'd been waiting for this_.

Realisation sparked in Arthur's crystal blue eyes, and he nearly exploded with excitement. It was that sort of excitement that bubbled up in your chest and wouldn't go away unless you screamed it out. Arthur was nearly screaming now, and so was Merlin. But neither wanted to lose the excitement, so why do something that would cause them to? Arthur retreated into his bedroom, and Merlin faintly heard the wardrobe doors being flung open.

The raven-haired boy just waited, tapping his feet alternately in anticipation and resisting the urge to start singing and dancing, as stupid as it sounds. _He did do a few pirouettes when he was sure Arthur wasn't coming back to the window for a while_. Forcing himself to stand perfectly still, he bit his lips closed. _Must not scream_. He looked down at himself and the several stone he had gained in clothes. Not particularly alluring, but he didn't think Arthur would be bothered. _Even through all of the layers he could see the erratic beat of his heat, throbbing carelessly under his skin. _

He needed to move again, butterflies fizzing around in his stomach and making him feel jittery. His eyes darted around; _he hadn't felt like this the first time_. In France it had been a lot more naive, innocent, almost, but no more significant. This inability to remain calm was insanity in its highest form, but he wanted more of it, he wanted the thrum of adrenaline to engulf him completely. And he wanted Arthur to join him there. _A tree_! No, don't be stupid, he couldn't climb a tree, he'd probably fall out and the evening would be ruined. He nearly considered ringing the doorbell. Maybe a run in with Uther would knock the enthusiasm out of him. _He honestly couldn't wait much longer_. The sky! He looked up. Perfect. Throwing himself rather harshly onto the ground (not that he felt it through the padding) he stared up at it. Taking some much-welcomed serenity out of the stars (and some out of the deep breaths he was forcing into his lungs). His mind swirling with philosophical reciting about love and life and everything else he would need to forget when Arthur came down, through risk of looking like a romantic fool. His lungs, he thought, the two things that without, his heart wouldn't beat. And his heart being the thing that initiated something such as love, he decided he needed to look after it. And therefore, he would need to look after his lungs... _Shut up Merlin. _He thought. Realising how stupid he was being. _Lungs_, yes... topical...

But where was Arthur? He called the name into the night, and the reply sent shockwaves down his spine. Not a vocal reply, but a kiss carefully placed on his forehead. A lock of black hair being swept gently out of the way. That single touch brought Merlin's heart rate down, back to its rhythmic beating. Back to the pace his adrenaline could keep up with.

No words seemed right in response, a simple '_how are you_' would be too formal, _'I love you'_ too intense. But those last three words were the only ones that made any sense. He would cry those words as long as it took for them to sink in. Knowing he could say them. Knowing that he _actually_ knew what they meant... Was indescribable. He rolled over, propping his head on his fists and his fists on his elbows. Ignoring the slight irritation as the bony joint made muffled contact with the tarmac. He looked at the boy knelt in front of him, and for the first time in a while the metaphor of pink fireworks was appropriate again. Pink, he decided, was his new favourite colour. That is, after the tan of Arthur's skin, the red of his shirt, the gentle purpling under his eyes, the white of his perfectly asymmetric teeth, the gold of his hair, and the blue of his eyes. But very much the same colour as the pale of his lips...

"All right?" Arthur said, very much in the way a cockney would say to his drinking buddy.

Merlin giggled, this time not getting embarrassed by how girly it sounded. Arthur didn't care about such trivial matters. "Very well, thank you," he replied in an opposite tone,

To which Arthur grinned, "Right, where to now?"

"Anywhere,"

"Oh yeah, I recognise the name," he smirked, leaning inwards and stealing a kiss, but tonight was about so much more than physicalities.

"Just promise me one thing," Merlin bargained,

"Anything,"

"You'll take off those blinkin' Reindeer slippers!" he said, unable to keep the smile off his face, unable to keep the exultancy in the back of his throat he gave up trying to restrain himself from rolling back onto his back to laugh, letting the full-force of his happiness overcome him. Presented once more by the blissful night-sky, he heard Arthur shuffle off his slippers, then gasp at the bitter cold air.

"It's _so cold_, Merlin," he pleaded, not afraid to sound like a child,

"No, you're _not_ wearing them. They ruined it for me last time,"

"Liar, I saw you checking them out," he teased, crawling into place over Merlin, looking down at his upside-down face, admiring how adorable it still looked. Noticing, properly, for the first time, that Merlin had smiley eyes! He needed to laugh at that.

"Don't flatter yourself," Merlin swatted the lips that were about to try and meet his with little more than a playful tap, but Arthur didn't try again.

"I'm offended,"

Merlin sighed, exasperated, "look," he knelt up once more (he couldn't stop moving!) so he was eye-level with the blond, "If you _have_ to have the slippers, I can live with the slippers, but I would just like to point out..."

Arthur nodded in encouragement,

"Christmas is a month away yet,"

"Minor details, Merlin, minor details," he scoffed,

"It's bad luck,"

"How can anything be bad luck when I have you?"

Merlin knew - that had been a rhetorical question, so didn't attempt to use his mouth to snap a witty response, but instead put it to better use, stopping Arthur from asking any more cheesy, annoying questions. He had said that tonight wasn't about physicalities, but what harm could a kiss here and there do? Hmm?

Arthur took the smaller boys hands and pulled him to his feet, glancing in both directions, down and up the road, before deciding that down the road was better. Down the road lead to the woods. Down the road lead to peace, quiet unlikely to be disturbed, and security. And most of all, seclusion.

Merlin willingly laced his fingers with Arthur's, revelling in the sweetness of the skin that touched his, and held him together. He took a moment to internally explode at the sight of the rope of clothes hanging from Arthur's bedroom window, he didn't much fancy having to try and climb back up one of those again.

―

He'd never known that silence between him and Merlin could be so reassuring, that he could feel _that_ at ease listening to nothing but their two sets of footsteps and the perfect correlation between their breathing. He didn't want to admit it, because it truly _was_ out of character, but it was blissfully beautiful.

―

He'd climbed down from his window approximately seventeen minutes and twenty eight seconds ago... _But to Merlin... it felt like no time at all._

The End x

**_Thanks again, if you have any ideas for other fics I could do, or would just like to express an opinion, hit the green button below!_**

**_I can't tell you how depressing it is to know that I've actually _finished...**


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